Too Many Shards
by manic-intent
Summary: A new character, Winter, and her quest to 'infiltrate' Bregan D'aerthe. Second person perspective challenge.
1. Winter

Foreword:

The story 'Too Many Shards' is my friend Risa's fault. Once I was whining about the apparent lack of really unusual things to write as or write in, and she suggested (probably to shut me up) writing as a 2nd person perspective (like gamebooks)...

Anyway, Too Many Shards has Winter as a main character, and is a continuation from my very first Dark Elf story of many years ago, Twin Swords, which I probably won't upload into Fanfiction.net because it is remarkably long winded. Go look at my webpage or something. :)

Hope you enjoy the story.

--

Prologue

"Explain this to me one more time. If Crenshinibon needs sunlight to function, then why in Morikan's name did the shard allow itself to be brought to the Underdark?"

A female drow elf, picking her way delicately through one of the various tunnels of the Underdark, apparently alone. At times she would stop abruptly before a chasm, and turn away, as if sensing that chasm, even if grey stone looks the same in the infrared. She wears a satchel slung by her side, and an apparently lightweight, well-made robe of colors that would be iridescent light blue in visual light but just grey in the infrared, like some makeshift _piwafwi_. 

She wears a cloak with strange symbols, including a stylized dragon, wings outstretched, proud head arched forward, long tail curling over sharp talons, white on the dark fabric of the cloak in visual light, a uniform grey like the rest of the drow's clothing in the infrared. 

A loose knife belt around her waist holds the scabbard of a single long sword, only the hilt visible to the eye, carved and wrought in adamantite, as well as a few barely hidden throwing knives. Long white hair occasionally brushed against the hilt, also falling around part of the drow's face, to be flicked away absently by a slender hand with sword calluses.

"Perhaps mine brother hath learned to tap the heartbeat of the Underdark."

This second voice, a medley of harmonies, sounds vaguely mortal but just as obviously is not, seems to come from the sword. Talking swords, though rare, aren't that unheard of, and in fact are so popular in written fictions (even in Sanctuary) that they are quite boring, actually.

"Hmph." Is the drow's reply, then a muffled curse as she accidentally stubs her toe. "Bloody hell."

"Winter!"

"I can curse if I want to," the drow replies mutinously.

"We are nearing thy city."

"You are changing the subject."

"Ah, a crevasse."

"What? Oh, sh..."

"Winter!"

The drow mutters darkly under her breath as she hauls herself slowly out of the crevasse she had slipped into, soft soil crumbling under her hands and boots, but she finally manages to free herself.

"Witty repartee with a sword. How far the mighty fall," Winter brushes dirt from her robes as much as possible, then continues wandering down the tunnel, at times having to stoop due to the sudden narrowing of the entrance.

"Hardly mighty as compared to Asur."

"Irr'liancrea, anything compared to Asur is weak. Before this thread of conversation becomes more inane, if that is possible, please do me a favor..."

"Yes?"

"Shut up. Lloth, I wish Drizzt...or even Zaknafein was here."

"Thou didst refuse his help. And as for the Sword Master..."

"I know. I have to do this myself." The drow looks down a high cliff over a wide cavern mouth. Far below, the gates are still visible, glowing faintly with a superior variant of the spell commonly known as faerie fire. Two guards. "Hmph. I say we kill them."

"Winter!"

"Oh, all right." The drow leaped lightly off into mid air, levitating slowly downwards, finally landing a respectful distance before the guards, who straighten and point spears at her.

"Halt!"

"Is it not interesting that guards everywhere have a basic guard-ness to them? 'Halt'. How original. The next thing they will say is 'State your business'." The drow mutters to her sword, in another tongue that has not been heard on this world.

"State your business!"

The drow known as Winter raises her face to the guards, a wicked smile playing on full lips. Ice-blue eyes peer out from under her fringe of stark white hair. "My business is none of yours. I am passing through the city, heading for another drow habitation. I would not disturb the precious Pax of the Market for any petty reason, nor do I thieve, nor do I intend to indulge myself in the Noble Game. Satisfied?"

The guards blink at each other. Only a native of the city would know all those terms, and no native, especially a drow female of such quiet assurance of power, would probably travel outside the city except...

They reluctantly open the gates, and the drow presses one small bag of coins into each of their hands, with a wink and a smile. "I will be obliged with you if the both of you did not see me pass through these gates."

"See who, lady?" one of the guards inquired, with a straight face. City guards are not paid well, and hardly noticed. Bribes are most welcome, as the drow female knew.

"Good boys," Winter replied carelessly, and entered Irinelaeran, the city of her birth.

--

Chapter 1

Winter

You moved around the corner of a building – the Burli apothecary – as unobtrusively as you could. From knowledge hard earned you know that sneaking, or moving stealthily, oft in fact attracts attention than eludes it. Moving as though you have a place to go, the eyes of others slide over you. 

The adult drow towered over you, and you dodged a few half-hearted kicks and returned a few unpleasantries with some of them, the rest simply ignored your presence. A street 'svirfneblin', as your type is nicknamed, your 'caste' in the big city is somewhere bordering over that of 'slave', and you knew it. 

You invoked your talent again in the relative shelter of the doorway of the apothecary, leaning grubby shoulders on the scuffed and pitted stone wall, as your mind tentatively _reached_...lucky that your physical senses were paying attention, because the outraged owner of the apothecary snarled something at you and you have to hurry away to protect yourself from physical injury. You wore no weapons that are obvious – weapons tend to call attention, and barbed attention at that.

The episode had not interrupted your concentration and you located the 'presence' again, you knew its position – somewhere inside the rows of colorful stalls that made up the Market. There is Pax in the Market which meant no fighting, hence less kicks in your direction, though more curses as you slipped through the crowds and caused mildly scandalized looks in your direction that are just as quickly forgotten.

Shopkeepers watched you as you near and pass their stalls, in case of theft, then just as quickly forgot and waited for the next one. Your type was hardly unknown, after all.

The presence was stronger now and nearer, and finally, from a less crowded and more shadowed part of the mage-lit Market, you spied what you had been looking for – and feel disappointed. 

At one of the stalls selling mage equipment, a drow adult male argued with the shopkeeper. He looked like an ordinary mercenary, if a bit more well-to-do – his armor of adamantite chain mail was not embellished, but well kept, and his robe comfortable-looking but not exactly expensive-looking, just a plain, dull color. Breeches, unadorned, were tucked into boots that looked like one of the most expensive items on him – very well made and decorated, but probably magically more than for show. The male was oddly slender, and a hood obscured his face. He wore plain gloves, and a satchel hung by his side, though in the elaborate stitching on it you recognized the symbols of wards.

You ran a critical eye over him – your gift couldn't have failed, but you really could not see anything intrinsically valuable on his person, except the satchel, perhaps, – until the male stepped around to look more closely at a wand, revealing the sword strapped onto his hip.

All your mind-senses go off at once – that was the object you have been seeking, the most valuable object in the city at the moment. For a moment you felt disappointed again – you should have guessed that such a vague 'request' to your finding gift would result in such a heavy-looking object instead of baubles, but value in what way, you wondered? Perhaps Petriarch would know.

You waited until the male – strange, that the mercenary would buy magical equipment, but he may be supplying a mage – started to move away, then you tailed him discreetly and skillfully, your bare feet hardly feeling the dirty cobblestones of the Market in your excitement of a stalking.

He entered the more crowded part of the Market – the food section – and you are hard put to abandon this stalking for the preying on some of the more savory-looking foodstuffs on display, but eventually your self-control won over and you continued, moving carefully closer. Here, everyone is more interested in food and ignored you, and you felt strange, as if invisible, and revel slightly in the power that this may bring until you brought yourself short and paid more attention on your target.

He neared an alley, which you recognized, and started to talk to a stallholder. The angle and distraction is perfect, and you slipped in, dirk in hand, to cut the straps holding the scabbard to the mercenary's belt. 

Both hands are used for such a theft – one to carefully lift the object as the other slashes silently down on the straps, so the scabbard would hardly be missed unless, of course, the owner notices the sudden lack of weight at his hip, but the alley is close by and no one has ever outrun you before, nor can he catch you once you enter the labyrinth of passages. 

You waited until they started discussing prices – that is the most absorbing part of a conversation and he probably would not notice you.

Your dirk barely nicked the leather before the mercenary suddenly spun around and grabbed for your hand. Automatically you sprang backwards and dashed into the alley, aborting the theft, his shouts gradually fading behind you.

Finally you rounded a last corner and paused to catch your breath, waiting for the adrenaline to die down. How had he managed to discover your theft, you wondered? You know yourself for one of the best thieves in the city, at least of petty crime and not that of the Noble Game...unless...

The sword must have been warded. But there were no symbols on the scabbard, and you knew enough that the hilt decoration was just that – decoration. Strange, but nothing to be remarked on. Putting swords and such out of your mind, you realized your stomach was speaking to you pointedly, and you ambled off to get food.

Taking a circuitous route back to the Market, you watch out warily for the mercenary, but he wasn't here and you relaxed a little. Theft by 'street svirfneblin', or the street children, was not uncommon and there is no actual outcry.

You waited for stall owners to become engaged with customers before pinching some items from their overflowing stalls, then retreated back to the alleys to enjoy your ill-gotten gains. Slices of pie and bread are hastily consumed, as is a small bottle of some unknown juice that is not alcoholic, at least. Your stomach now appeased, you returned to prowling the Market.

A _nigouar_ amongst rothe. The image nearly made you chuckle as you pushed strands of dirty white hair from your eyes. No _nigouar_ this invisible, and no rothe with so sharp a kick. If caught you may be killed, there is no mercy in this sort of cities, or if there is, certainly not for the likes of you. 

A whiff of expensive perfume from a passing priestess, but you knew better than to try to lift her purse and you carefully kept your distance from her snake-whip. A duergar merchant is fair game and you managed to cut his purse, relieving him of his coins and secreting them in your clothing quickly and easily. He will notice his loss later but will probably not report it – drow do not care of the problems of one of the 'lesser' races.

You rubbed your nose thoughtfully in the alley, decided that there is nothing much left at the Market for you and decided to fleece the 'rothe' again later. You slipped back into the shadows of a quiet street, knowing you are leaving heat markings, but the filth on your feet will make less of that visible. 

Your feet, callused from years of walking barefoot, hardly felt any strain or such any more as they carried you through many intersections and finally into a more disreputable part of the city.

There are other 'street svirfneblin' here and you recognized the lot of them, they gave you a berth and you gave them a berth. They knew you for who you are, and you did not want any trouble. Petriarch did not like trouble amongst his 'charges'.

This was the back of a house of ill repute, ostensibly an inn, but the whores here were probably better termed courtesans. They were all beautiful and educated, all could play at least one instrument and could hold an intelligent conversation...verbally as well as physically, of course. And what they did is of their choice. 

They all took names of Surface world flowers – Irinelaeran was close enough to Skullport, after all, and trade relations are good enough to see surface world products here. 

You pulled your mind from these revelations and knocked carefully on the back door.

After a while it opened, and widened as the opener saw you and allowed you to step in. You did so, looking a little guiltily at the dirty marks you made on the kitchen floor.

"Kel." The speaker of your name glanced down at you from where she was kneading some dough and raised an eyebrow. "Brought something important, I hope? 'Tis hardly one cycle and the Market is still going strong."

"Yes'm," you replied, then frowned. Raena the cook wasn't the one you were supposed to...

"Petriarch is up talking to a client of his," Raena shrugged. "You can give me the goods. I'd pass them to him – he knows."

You nodded dumbly, slightly frightened by Raena as usual. Her intimidating presence and hacksaw like profile has struck doubt in the heart of many taller than 'street svirfneblin'. Carefully you removed the 'goods', or the baubles and coins from your own kind of 'clients', and handed them to her, noticing with wry interest that your hands are just about the cleanest part of you. You could afford any 'contamination' that may slow down or affect your 'service'. 

"How did your 'experiment' go?" Raena asked as she secreted the things in a tin labeled 'biscuits', and you regretted telling the others in her presence that morning of your 'experiment' with your gift. Anything that would allow you to leave! You looked around wildly but there is no escape, and you capitulated grudgingly.

"Not well mum," you said cautiously. 

"Not well?" Raena raised an eyebrow. She was not your mother, but all the 'street svirfneblin' called her that. 

"I finds it, mum, but 'twas warded, like." Street speech tumbled naturally from your lips, contrasting with Raena's 'educated', straight speech.

She barely winced anymore. "Hmph. I could have told you that. Off you go, then, before you dirty any more of my kitchen. Oh, and Petriarch wants you to find the other Seekers and call them back here, then return yourself. Some sort of business."

All of them? You blinked. 

Raena saw your reaction and nodded absently, returning to her baking. "Lloth knows what he is up to this time. Shoo. You may tell the others outside to help you."

You gratefully sidled out of her kitchen, now knowing why there were so many street svirfneblin outside the door. All of you glanced at each other and decided that caution and rivalry is petty next to Raena's wrath, and divided the task between yourselves. You set off with a mental list in your mind of those you had to find.

Seekers are those with the gift you have – one holds it until one reaches 'adulthood', meaning that you may lose the gift around sixteen to twenty or so years of age. That is still some time away and you are not concerned with looking that far. When you reach that age you know that Petriarch will take care of further job opportunities – that is why you joined his little 'confederation' as he calls it, a group of 'street svirfneblin' with this particular ability. He keeps up this 'trust' fund, and also gives a safe place to sleep at night.

In return you gave him a certain quota of 'goods' a day, and you found this exchange quite to your liking – Petriarch is likeable for drow, and though not exactly friendly he is not exactly hostile either. 

Your gift, of course, is the ability to find nearly anything you put your mind on. A certain humanoid, or a merchant with a large purse, or a certain book in the city. There are intensities of gifts and yours, trained by Petriarch, is one of the best. You can probably locate anything in the Underdark if you wish to, though stepping out of the relative safety of Irinelaeran is the last thing you probably want to do.

You found your first target eyeing a merchant at the rothe pens, and you hunkered down next to him. He saw you and made no comment except raising an eyebrow, but Kter was a quiet one.

"Petriarch, 'e wants us. You gotta report back," you murmured, then gave him two of those you have to find for him to locate, along with a few more instructions, then the both of you parted ways.

The 'street svirfneblin' walked everywhere and saw everything, but that sometimes mades your type very difficult to find. Your closest target was a quarter across the city, and you eventually found her staring at the debris washed up on the shore of the Kraen River. 

She straightened up as she sees you. "Kel?" Her voice was the muted, automatic murmur that all 'street svirfneblin' use – you have not much truck with so much speech, so usually when your type do speak it is for business, often shady.

"Kerr." You acknowledged. "Petriarch's orders. You gotta report back."

You did not bother to give her any names – Kerr's gift was not really strong, not like yours or Kter's.

Leaving her, your feet took you to the Raeka end of the city, where the entertainment usually was. You found your target, Ras, quietly watching a pair of gracefully dancing female adults wearing very skimpy clothing.

"Kel. Thisy 'portant?" he inquired.

"Petriarch wants us t' report back." You replied. You had one other left on your mental list, and, passing a male elf juggling fire, you wandered down to the Makan quarter where the expensive food shops are and found your last target diving quickly into the alley in front of you. 

An outraged-looking, stout adult was waving a cleaver and shouting, and his eyes fixed on you. He threw the weapon at you but you dodged easily, nearly feeling the rush of air as the weapon flew past you to skitter on the cobblestones, and shot into the alley after your target.

Eventually the two of you lost him, and you grinned at Rob as he grinned at you, then he gave you an egg tart from a bag of other pastries probably stolen from a bakery, with the cleaver-throwing adult as the baker? You accepted happily.

"Got careless?" you asked curiously. Rob was very skilled as well.

"Yare, yare. Nearly got'way, but one of the customers paid 'is three bob too quick, like, an' saw me relievin' some o' the tray, see. Rum'un."

You grinned. "Petriarch wants the lot o' us t' report back to 'im."

"Race you there."

**

Nearly everyone was back outside the place as you and Rob reach it. You were the faster, and he obligingly gave up another egg tart, which you consumed quickly before the others saw fit to relieve you of it. 

"Wonder wot 'e wants 'is time." Kerr muttered.

"Prob'ly some rich gent wants some diam'nd found," Rob shrugged, still slightly breathless.

"Really rich, then." You said. Petriarch did not sell his services cheaply.

Finally the door opened to show Petriarch's face. He was short for drow, with slightly bulging eyes and a usual, faint smile on his lips. He nods, and waited for the last to come, before saying, "Rob, Kter, Kel...Jor, Prov, Sher. Come in. The rest of you, I have something else for you to do. Stay here."

The six of us were the best Seekers, and we looked uneasily at each other as we entered the kitchen. Raena tut-tutted at the prints on her floor, but Petriarch ignored her and opened the other kitchen door discreetly, leading us up the staircase.

You looked down at the inn – Rose was entertaining two males, one of whom looked likely to end up in her bed later. Foxglove was speaking with the performing musician, and the other 'ladies' were conspicuously not present. The other customers are mostly regulars and you recognized a few, but then you reached the second story, a clean corridor. Petriarch herded the lot of you into one of the more expensive rooms, then closed the door behind you.

The room was richly furnished with a large bed and other sumptuous furniture – the lot of you felt slightly guilty as your dirty toes sank into the soft carpeting. Of course, you dared not touch any of the expensive looking decorations – Petriarch may have treated you well but he was not above a thrashing.

In dismay you recognized the other occupant of the room – the mercenary you tried to steal from earlier! You forced yourself to keep calm and made your heart stop trying to force its way out of your chest, lowering your head, hoping that he would not notice you.

Or was Petriarch giving you up to him? No, he would not do that...or if he was about to he would not have called the rest up with him.

This mercenary wanted to find something? 

"Here they are, Winter, the best I've got," Petriarch said in his gruff voice.

What sort of name was 'Winter'?

"They're all...children." The mercenary looked surprised.

"That's when the gift kicks in," Petriarch shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

"Well then," The mercenary sighed, turning back his hood. You blinked as you realized the mercenary is actually female...'he' shook out long white tresses that framed a very beautiful, feminine face.

Suddenly her eyes settled on you and she blinked, and you waited for the denunciation, biting your lip, then she smiled suddenly. "Which are you willing to spare, Petriarch?"

"They're all good," Petriarch shrugged.

"Even finding a drow city they've never seen before?" she raised an eyebrow, elegantly poised.

"Anything you want to find, they will," Petriarch shrugged again. "You're certainly paying me enough to get the best."

Drow city? The lot of you glanced uneasily at each other.

"I'd keep the one I choose safe," she said, as if reading our minds, but she was speaking to Petriarch.

"Good to hear," was his gruff reply.

"I may have to take the youngest. I do not know how long I will be engaged in Menzoberranzan, but I may require his...or her skills longer than I'd thought." Winter said thoughtfully.

"You're talking about Kel, then." Petriarch nodded at you, and you looked at him in horror. "Don't you worry. Winter's an old friend and she keeps her promises."

Winter nodded. "Thanks a million, Petriarch. I will have to speak with Kel now."

The rest filed out, shooting you sympathetic glances, and you seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move in shock. Petriarch gruffly ruffled your hair before going out and closing the door, the sound like that of a crypt door shutting.

"I know who you are. You are the one who tried to steal Irr'liancrea today, hey?" Winter's speech was strange, but you could follow it. She patted the sword hilt.

"Yes'm," you managed, backing a step.

"Child, I'm not going to punish you. I need your help, remember?" Winter sighed. "Now, did Petriarch tell you what you were supposed to help me find?"

"No'm."

"I need you to find Menzoberranzan," Winter said, "then to lead me to it. I cannot portal there because it would set off Crenshinibon's alarms, and other alarms as well – Morikan knows where Lloth may send me if I try to use magic to 'jump' over. Ah, but I see you do not understand. Well then, can you find the city?"

"Yes'm," you said, then cautiously added, "I needa picture of it, mum."

"Oh dear," she shrugged. "Well then, I suppose you should find Crenshinibon, then." She drew her sword and your eyes widened – it was one of the strangest things you had ever seen, a sword whose hilt is wrought of bluish crystal instead of metal, glowing faintly in the visual light of the mage-lit room.

You looked at her cautiously.

"I can give thee an image of mine brother,"

You blinked as you realized the voice was coming from the sword, but you were not truly surprised – perhaps that was how Winter knew when you were trying to steal her sword. Then there aws a 'probing' feel in your mind and suddenly you saw a picture of what looked like a crystal shard.

"Can you find that?" Winter asked, hope in her voice.

"Yes'm," was your reply, as you reached out over distance and found the presence of the thing. It was easy – it seemed to pulse in your mental map with great power.

"Good. Come on, then." Winter looked down at her chainmail and sighed. "By Morikan, I hate dressing up as a male. I wonder how Zaknafein can stand to carry so much weight on his body all the time...but no time for speculation. You'd have to bathe, and Petriarch has some more suitable clothing..."

Your eyes widened as you realized what she implied.

"We're leaving the city in an hour."


	2. The Underdark

Chapter 2

The Underdark

Clean and wearing a new set of more comfortable clothing for travel – robes supposedly warded against physical attack, a satchel of your own, a _piwafwi_, of all things, and boots which felt strange on your feet, you meekly followed Winter, still in her male dress, out of the city, where she curtly nodded to the guards. They stared at her – a mercenary venturing out into the Underdark with only a child? – but apparently ignored and forgot her.

When you left all sounds and sights of the city Winter breathed a great sigh of relief, and loosed her hair enthusiastically, the tresses spilling over her shoulders. She smiled at you. "The clothes fit? It was a little rushed."

You could only nod, already feeling apprehension at leaving a familiar place and venturing into a strange one, and a dangerous one at that, and yet excitement at the new undertaking.

"Your name is Kel, yes?" Winter continued, as we picked our way through a tunnel that seemed to get rougher and rougher as we progressed. 

"Yes'm," you replied. Winter had an intimidating presence, and also a curious one as well. How could any female like her not be worshipping Lloth or some other gods? She had such poise that you had automatically classed her as 'noble-born', but she did not seem to be anything at all, not mage, even with the wands she had purchased, not warrior, even with the sword at her hip, not priestess....

"I suppose you wonder what I am?" Winter inquired, breaking into your thoughts. You blink furiously at her. A mind reader?

"Not me, but the sword," Winter admitted, patting its hilt. "Ah, a large step." She hoisted you up the obstacle, then vaulted nimbly up. "I suppose I might have to explain...the sword Irr'liancrea informs me that we are not as yet into the unpatrolled bit of the Underdark yet, so we can afford to make a bit of noise. I am a Loremaster, but before that my name was Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest, of Irinelaeran."

You saw her watching you closely as it dawned on you why she seemed a little familiar. Ra'Kest...House Ra'Kest was the top house in Irinelaeran. Before you were born there was some sort of trouble in the House which was still whispered around to this day, a favorite topic of gossip in Petriarch's tavern, some daughter stealing something and running away, a daughter with an unheard-of power.

"Ra'Kest," you managed to murmur, before blinking again. "Ah."

"An answer of sorts I would believe," Winter shrugged. "Mind your head...oh dear. Are you all right? Yes you are. Very well...I was Ra'Kest until I fled the city and later ended up in another world, but I see you are beginning to doubt me, yes?"

You stared at her, rubbing your head where you had accidentally hit it on an outcrop. Another world? That sounded like the words of a drug-induced sleep of an addict of some hallucinogen, but she seemed so sure...everything about her seemed sure.

"It is true, Kel. There are many worlds out there, but needless to say I managed to end up in the correct one at the correct time...and events led me back here. When we reach Menzoberranzan I will try to portal you back to Irinelaeran if you wish, but your gift may serve me well there – and I will be most willing to take care of you."

Take care? If it was anything like what she had already done – outfitting you with expensive and comfortable equipment, even purchasing a large, beautifully wrought dagger when your eyes had fallen on it...this would indeed prove to be an interesting trip. And as to a portal back...you decided you would see, but you did already miss Irinelaeran.

Walking in the Underdark seemed to be like walking in blindness. No signs of anything except heat signs from yourself and Winter, which was not the least bit comforting. If you could see the heat signs, so could monsters, things that lurked in corners and waited to rend your flesh! No, not comforting at all. 

The stone was cold and did not show up in the infrared...if not for Winter's directions you felt you would have fallen into some crevasse already. Her sword was glowing, some bluish light that was just enough to see by, but carelessness may mean crippling or death. Having grown up in a world that was of flat streets and buildings, the Underdark came as a complete shock to you, like one of those tales adults told to frighten children come true.

But Winter was unafraid and you seemed to draw from her strength, and your feet somehow continued to walk calmly on instead of leading your body to bolt in terror.

"How long have you been a thief?" Winter was asking, a little playfully.

You stared at her.

"Do you know how old you are, then?"

"No'm," you replied.

"And you can call me Winter, Kel."

"Yes'm."

Winter sighed. "Not much for talking, are you?"

"Not like thee, whose words foam from her mouth like water in a creek," You nearly jumped – the sword talking was still fairly shocking.

"Hmph."

Your mind wandered back to what had happened after Winter had outfitted you and you had bathed. Petriarch, running into the room.

"Winter! You have to leave...they've begun to look for you!"

"Will they find me?" Winter had said casually as she helped you put on your boots.

"Not here."

"Then there is not much as yet to worry about," she had said dismissively. "Oh all right, Petriarch. I won't be staying long, anyway. And how did you know Ra'Kest was looking for me?"

"The children told me. That was what I called all of them back for, to look out for Ra'Kest elves walking the streets," Petriarch gave you a sidelong glance. "How much money are you spending on Kel?"

"Enough to make Kel comfortable," was her succinct reply. "When I walk out of here I will be dressed as a male...I will _be_ a male, my walking, my talking, my attitude. I am rather good at acting, thank you – you were the one who taught me, remember?"

"But..."

"Either I do this or they find me and I die slowly," Winter had said, as calmly as if she had been discussing the state of carpets in the room. "So I will be the part. Males are hardly noticed, after all, and they will be looking for a robed female, not a male in chain mail, though it chafes and it is damnably heavy."

"You had better be sure," was Petriarch's reply before he left. Winter had merely smiled.

"Petriarch helped and shielded me when I was still living here," she had explained. "Though he is like a mother hen, I suppose he does mean well..."

You had watched the entire episode in astonishment, and now you wondered, inconsequentially, what a mother hen was.

**

You led and she followed, your gift leading you through tunnels and caverns, and everything seemed gloriously boring. There were no monsters behind sinister rocks, nor were there fungi with poisonous fumes. You began to feel slightly let down.

Winter finally asked for a stop for rest – even you were already feeling tired, and you sat down next to her gratefully. She drew Irr'liancrea and stabbed it into the ground, then moved over a few medium-sized flat rocks about two-feet across, then began to murmur in some arcane tongue to herself.

You had seen this before, but it was still miraculous to watch. The rocks began to glow in the infrared – heat, and a strong heat at that – you feel it from where you sit and shuffle away slightly.

Winter then used her scabbard to draw a circle around the makeshift campsite, muttering again, and the small trough glows slightly blue in visual light before returning to 'normal'. Satisfied, she sat down and put down her satchel, before taking out rations – dry biscuit and fungus that you had found, some mushroom, and some dried meat. 

Then the part you liked most, when she uttered more words and held out both hands. There was a distortion in the air, and a pot materialized in them. More words and it half-filled with water. She left the pot to boil on the heated rocks, then began to cook efficiently.

You find some small pebbles and settled back to juggle. You managed to get five pebbles up into the air before you heard a chuckle from Winter's direction – turning to look at her, the pebbles continue to fly in the air.

"Most dexterous," she approved, holding out a bowl. "Ready to eat yet?"

You toss all the pebbles into one hand, then dump them at your side, reaching out eagerly for the bowl, remembering your manners and adding, "Thanks'm."

The bowl is hot and metal, so you set it on the ground, using the spoon in it to eat quickly. You look up once to see Winter watching you in bemusement.

"Why do you eat so fast? You may burn your tongue," she commented, eating her portion more daintily.

"Used t' it, mum," you replied cautiously. In Irinelaeran, if you did not eat quickly your food may be snatched away from you.

"Well, no one's taking it from you here," Winter said, unconsciously perhaps having listened to your thoughts again via Irr'liancrea. "Eat more slowly, or you may be sick."

"Yes'm." 

The last of the stew eaten, Winter frowned at the bowls and pot, speaking again, and they suddenly gleam, clean, before she did the vanishing trick on them.

Emboldened by impulse, you asked, "'ow did you make 'em go 'way like that?"

"I am a Loremaster," Winter smiled. "A type of magic-user. I merely send those pots and bowls away to another place. It is rather an easy task. However, I do not send food, because in that other place it may be taken or go bad. Sending the heavier things away means our packs need not be so heavy."

Your full stomach makes you realize that Winter had in fact left most of the food to you, even if she did give you the semblance of eating.

"Sleep now. One wilt watch." Irr'liancrea suddenly spoke, but Winter nodded, making blankets appear, half of which she handed to you. You managed to make a sort of nest that you curl up in and sleep, your last thoughts of crystal swords and heated rocks...

**

"Thou hast company."

That ominous phrase shocks you out of sleep and you rub sleep-blurred eyes. Vision is murky for a moment, then jumps sharply in focus and you let out a small gasp of fear – duergar!

Not the merchants in the city, but lean, muscled soldiers that encircled the protection at a respectful distance, muttering to themselves. 

Winter rolled gracefully to her feet and plucked up Irr'liancrea in a single fluid move. Her armor was not on, but she still looked competently dangerous. Some of the duergar took a step back.

You watched as she spoke some words in the duergar tongue – a harsh language that you have never been actually able to pronounce.

The duergar hesitated, then replied slowly.

"I should have paid more attention to the maps," Winter muttered in drow, finally. "These dwarves are from a nearby city they call 'Klaendarkr'...asking why we are invading their land."

"We ain't invadin' 'em," you said quickly, staring at the duergar. All of them held axes, in a way that made you know that they did know how to use the cruel-looking weapons. Swords looked dashing, rapiers courtly, daggers mysterious and bows noble, but axes looked barbarically obvious – a weapon for killing and no other, most businesslike.

"So we aren't," Winter agreed. "This _is_ stupid." She spoke again in the duergar tongue, something that caused mild consternation in the duergar ranks.

Winter translated for you, haltingly. "Something about attack...ah, some of them think we are an advance scouting party. A single female and a child, even if both are drow? Sometimes I wonder if those helmets they wear impede their thinking processes. Now all of them are looking for hidden drow, when even the best drow magic cannot truly conceal heat traces or sounds."

Indeed the duergar were shooting glances into the darkness.

"I suppose I will have to resort to primitive threats," Winter sighed and spoke again in dwarfish. The duergars' grip on their weapons tightened, and you put a hand to your dagger, wary.

The dwarves finally seemed to reach some sort of agreement, and spoke. Winter frowned in annoyance. "Now they want us to go to this Klaendarkr. For Morikan's sake, we were only passing through! Sometimes dwarves...damn."

"Agree, then." Irr'liancrea spoke up. The dwarves gave it a horrified glance, then began to whisper in earnest to themselves.

"Hah! They do not like 'drow magic'. Fine...I may be able to play this to my benefit...firstly, why should we go to Klaendarkr?"

"Because there are those there who 'keep tabs', as thou'rt prone to say, on thy destination. Better to ask duergar than goblins or svirfneblin, who do not trust thy kin at all...duergar have worked with drow before. An' 'tis better off by far for thee to actually know something of Menzoberranzan present. The books thou read in the Library are slightly out of date."

"Into a dwarven city?" Your voice quavered slightly, but Winter cocked her head, a sign that she was thinking thoughtfully.

"Might as well, I suppose," she said.

"What?" your ears seem to be playing you up.

"Oh, Kel," Winter smiled. "Dwarven cities aren't that different from drow ones, and I did say I will protect you. You have nothing to fear...if there is a problem I will simply portal the lot of us back to Irinelaeran. I doubt there is anything on this plane that can stop Irr'liancrea. And I do need this information, I suppose." She turned back to the duergar and spoke.

They glanced at each other, then debated, pointing at the sword and at us.

"Dwarves adore arguing," you realized with shock that Winter was standing right next to you. She had walked without a sound! You feel slightly annoyed when she ruffles your hair in reassurance, but then you have to fight off the impulse to cling to her when the duergar turn back to look.

"Here we go, then. Kel, pick up your satchel. Good." Winter nodded, wore her armor quickly, and stepped out of the protective circle. You followed her, watched as she dispelled the magic – the duergar were watching her as if she were a berserk ogre.

You walked as closely to her as possible, still frightened, but now it is a dull terror underlying your thoughts. Duergar horror stories were very common, and each time one of the humanoids shot you a glance you would look away quickly. 

Winter, as usual, was supremely confident, murmuring soothing words to you from time to time. Irr'liancrea, sheathed, still glowed faintly through the scabbard. 

The duergar plainly did not know what to make of you and Winter. Their speaking in a language you do not understand made it worse – you kept imagining that they are speaking about you, making you feel more tensed and suspicious. What if they were to kill the two of you in their city? What if Winter didn't know what she was doing?

Winter kept up a near-steady stream of talk during the trudge to the dwarven city, in both dwarven and drow, some jokes, some stories, but you did not have the heart to listen to her, fear like lead in your stomach.

The duergar, unwillingly at first, listened to her tales and quips, then some started to laugh, then all of them, at Winter's sly wit, and when we finally reached the city they were already telling some of their own stories to her. 

Just like Winter, you thought wryly.

The only thing of the city you can see is a pair of massive doors that seem both strong and beautiful at the same time – trademarks of dwarven craftsmanship. The bearded guards stared at you and Winter, and spoke with your 'escort' before finally letting you and the rest into the city.

**

Klaendarkr was incredible.

Your eyes grow used to the increased amount of lighting, and notice something – everything looks as though it had been touched by dwarven hands. The walls are too straight to be natural, and the cavern head is an immense dome over the city with uneven decorations at the side, all plated in metal and carving. This metal glowed, giving the city some sort of light.

"A timeclock," Winter murmured to you. Apparently the duergar escort were explaining things. "Grades of infrared heat according to the time now."

The walls looked carved, as did the cobbled grounds, all symmetrical and beautifully planned, like a single work of art, dwarven art – built to withstand a siege but also built to showcase dwarven talents.

"Everythin's cut from rock," you find yourself saying. "'ollowed out. Thisy was just rock, once."

Winter looked surprised. "That's right. Very good, Kel."

You find yourself smiling at her praise.

Duergar pause from what they had been doing to stare at you and Winter as you pass by. You see that their homes seem more open and 'friendly' than Irinelaeran – certainly you do not see any 'street svirfneblin' wandering around.

Some of the escort are questioned, but then you and Winter are hurried down some more streets, past one garden of brightly glowing fungi, past an interesting waterfall...towards a large residence. 

It was another large cave-like structure, but this was obviously a rich one. Guards at the entrance blinked at us, then spoke with the escort, then waved us through. Inside was a well-tended, beautiful garden, lit in soft mage-lights. Some of the fungi were pleasantly scented, and the path was of crushed marble, making crunching sounds under your boots. 

Two large flights of steps swept down from either side of the curved walls of the large cavern to face each other in the garden, but you were herded under the balcony of the several-storey high building, to the first storey.

Inside you changed escort to a more well-equipped guard, who lead you inside while the old escort drifts away 'to get some rest' as Winter put it.

You carefully kept your hands to yourself. The inside was just as richly furnished as the outside, dwarven style, with weapons and armor taking the place of tapestries and paintings, everything solidly made and practically colored in pleasing shades instead of the gaudy hues that some elves seem to favor.

Eventually you ended up in what looks like a waiting room, and the escort stood while waving you two to the padded benches that line both walls. The room was carpeted and a vase stands on a table in the middle, with what Rose calls 'mock-roses' inside, fungi that glow in the dark and resemble half-opened rose blooms. Very, very expensive.

Winter sat down on a bench and helped you up next to her. The bench was comfortable and to your mild consternation you found yourself about to sleep. The guards seemed perfectly content to wait it out, and Winter continued to speak. You wondered vaguely why she never seems to run out of things to say.

When she seemed to be on the verge of winning the guards over, the other door in the room – leading to the office of whatever you two were supposed to see – opened, and the guards shooed you in.

The office was plainly furnished – no carpet, some cushioned chairs in front of a desk, behind of which was yet another chair, turned with the back facing us, the occupant looking out of a narrow window over a street. The room held mostly file cabinets and paper...and nothing else, making the large room seem rather empty.

The chair turned around, and the both of you gasped...

Because the occupant was drow.


	3. Mikaras

Chapter 3

Mikaras

Drow in a dwarven city!

You stared at the elf in the chair. He was impeccably dressed, though also rather plainly – hair unadorned and unfashionably short, clothes robes, shirt and breeches, all in plain colors of blue and gray. He steepled his fingers and peered down his nose at the two of you, dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Please be seated," he spoke with a familiar accent – Irinelaeran accent! You feel stunned by this, and so unthinkingly allowed yourself to be lifted into one of the chairs by Winter. She sat down in the other, and frowned at the male elf.

"How..." she began.

He interrupted her. "Circumstances," he said dismissively, "But it is most astonishing to see the poise of the fabled Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest falter, no?"

Winter regained her 'fabled poise' with amazing speed, settling into the chair and giving him a cool stare. "I am afraid you have the advantage of us..." she left the sentence hanging.

"My name is Mikaras," the drow said, then gave you a curious glance. "The child's name, however..."

"Kel," you said, before you could stop yourself, then looked at Winter in chagrin. She shook her head slightly as if to say it was no matter.

"And how did you know..."

"One of my dwarven soldiers told me than a female elf who wielded a talking sword of crystal was coming," Mikaras said wryly. "It did not take much brain work to figure out who it was, no?"

"What did you bring us here for?" Winter said, to the point.

Mikaras smiled charmingly, or tried to. Certainly to you he seemed to succeed. "The pleasure of the company of a famous drow?"

"Notorious, more like it," Winter responded. 

"Notoriety is more wide-ranging than simple fame," Mikaras agreed. "But I am digressing. Any soldiers my patrols find this close to the city, they take to me, and the city usually allows me to deal with them."

"And this dealing involves?" Winter's poise did not change, but you were suddenly aware of a coiled up tension within her. A predator ready to spring.

"I speak with them, then send them on their way," Mikaras said. "As to what I do say...that varies, but the effect is that this city has not been attacked by drow in living memory. I...I suppose the word is [dwarven word] the city, and I shudder to think what our murdering kin would do to it, yes? Charming. Our language does not even have a word which goes even close...except 'lust', which is not applicable in this case."

Mikaras did not seem like any sort of drow you know, and you are aware that you were continuing to stare.

"Tell me, Winter...yes, I am aware of your nickname – why are you back in this area, and with a child?" Those eyes swept back to you, and you automatically tried to sink into your seat. "A street child, at that...what was that charming name the old city had for them? Ah yes, 'street svirfneblin' – evil, tiny light fingered creatures." The way Mikaras spoke the last phrase – whimsically – took all criticism or seriousness out of it.

"You see much," Winter said coolly. She obviously did not like being upstaged by a fellow drow, and she was stalling, such that not much of why you were there could be shown. 

"Many have spoken of your intelligence," Mikaras said suddenly. "Would you like to tell me about myself?"

Winter raised an eyebrow. "What people hear tends to be inflated, but very well. I see before me one Mikaras...Tre'kerena, past his second century of age."

Mikaras looked as though he would have asked a question, then touched the medallion half-hidden by his shirt and smiled wryly. You recognize the design on the medallion as well.

"You are, of course, head of a band of soldiers whom also take mercenary jobs on the side-line, as well as other illicit dealings that also involve merchants, judging from the paperwork that I can read from here..." Mikaras chuckled at that. 

Winter shrugged and plunged on. "You are doing very well, as is obvious from the fact you can keep so many soldiers that look so well...fed. However, you did not build this place, in fact I am sure that you bought it from someone...no, inherited it, which would probably explain why so much dwarfish furniture is around, so I would assume some duergar bequeathed it to you."

"I could have purchased the furniture..." Mikaras began playfully.

"Your office here is obviously your personal sanctum – it is plainly done, most unlike that of the outside. You inherited this, Mikaras. The fact that everything here seems like it has been there for more than two centuries, judging from the dust in some of the less-swept corners I passed up here, means that whoever had this was also a mercenary, probably the person whose 'group' you took over."

Mikaras nodded slightly.

"You used to hold swords, one long and one short, but you have not for some time, preferring to devote yourself to the energies of your work. The fact that you...[dwarven word] this city has been mentioned by you, but also can be seen in other ways – the window, which is newer than the rest of the house, and the paintings, for one."

"The swords?" Mikaras asked.

"I can see the calluses which have faded a little to tend towards that of holding a pen."

You watched this verbal fencing match, slightly openmouthed.

"Anything you can tell about my personality?" Mikaras smiled.

"Other than you have once been scorned in some [same dwarven word] affair or lost it, and that you are unsure about how you feel about your family, some sort of scandal perhaps? I cannot deduce much about how your personal life is like. However, you are probably a likeable, strong person with hidden talent – dwarves do not follow...ah, but I see something has upset you."

Mikaras was leaning forward, half-standing in shock. "How..."

Winter looked more smug now that she appeared to have the upper hand. "About the affair? Why, you have, on your arm, under your robe sleeve, a band with a design for '[dwarven word]', dwarfish, of course. The inscription, from here, appears to have been neatly sliced to obscurity. I saw your arm when you invited us to sit. As to your family, the fact that you still wear your medallion is evidence enough for me."

"Very good," Mikaras murmured, settling down into the chair. "And correct in all points except – one, I still do use my swords, though not very often...two, I have severed myself from my family. The medallion just has a ward on it that prevents me from eating poison, and other such sort of attacks on my person which proves useful."

"And, there is something worrying you – perhaps a rival group or such that has serious imports on your own," Winter finished, and smiled slightly in triumph when Mikaras blinked again. "You have eye-rings from lack of sleep, and the fact that you have them means this is not a common occurrence – hence something is worrying you. It cannot be some act of prejudice because you are probably used to it...but I admit that was a little of a guess."

"Very good," Mikaras repeated. "And true. The rival group Ironhammer recently acquired a new leader...whom everyone does not know who it is, but I suspect..."

You were tired, and the words were failing to register – your eyes closed somewhere after Winter had begun to explain her deductions on Mikaras' affair. Now they flew open as Mikaras paused, and you felt dismayed as you realized both Mikaras and Winter are looking at you.

"Yes'm?" you asked.

"Kel is tired," Winter said to Mikaras, "Do you have a guest room?"

"The child can sleep here," Mikaras grinned. "Kel looks comfortable enough, and you can tuck the child in to bed later...poor thing seems frightened of my dwarven friends."

You flushed slightly, but Mikaras was right – the chair was comfortable...from somewhere Mikaras produced a cloak, and Winter covered you with it as you spiraled slowly into sleep, their voices over your head...

**

You woke in a soft bed, head on a pillow of soft feathers, and luxuriated a little in the warmth before sitting up quickly. You were in a room also of dwarven furnishing – rich and with weapons on the walls. Winter sat on the other bed, absently combing her hair. She smiled at you as you slipped off and tidied your clothing and began to wear your boots.

"Truly sorry for keeping you awake so long," she admitted.

"Thou was...occupied," Irr'liancrea spoke up.

"The sword was tellin' you 'bout all those things, right? 'mean, I didna think you could guess that well..." you blurt out.

"Ah, Kel, again you surprise me," Winter grinned. "Yes, it was...about why he was so tired from lack of sleep only, however. Certainly it was worth the cheating to shock him again."

"'e wants you t' kill somethin', right?" you continued. The satchels were in a corner and not close at hand, meaning you weren't going to leave anytime soon, but Irr'liancrea was still close at hand and Winter was in her armor, something that she did not like, but would use in a job that may involve fighting...

"Correct," Winter smiled. "Why Kel, you should have talked to Mikaras...you may have told him what he ate after he woke up and what he wore yesterday."

"Kill what?" you pressed.

"As forward as always. Well child, I am to enter the compound of Ironhammer and see what their leader is. And perhaps kill him if need be. You on the other hand, stay here."

"Wot if...somethin' happens? T' you?" you could not help asking.

"Mikaras would take care of you, and so would this sword," Winter patted the scabbard calmly. "Nothing on this plane can destroy Irr'liancrea, I believe, and its will is its own. It should be able to move back here. But why speak of death, Kel? Wish me luck."

"Yes'm," you replied, feeling slightly downcast. 

"Chin up, Kel. After this Mikaras promised to help me with Menzoberranzan...he has a few spies there, as in every city which is open to duergar trade. You might like to speak with him at the moment...can you read and write?"

"No'm."

"Pity, or you may have helped him with that mountain he calls paperwork."

**

You were ushered back into Mikaras' room, where you clambered back onto the chair you had slept in.

Mikaras continued to write, though you were aware that he was paying very close attention to your every move.

"Well met again, Kel," Mikaras said, jokingly, "Winter told me you are a very smart child."

"She tol' me I kin prob'ly tell you what you ate when you woke up, an' what you wore yest'rday." You said carefully. Winter's words, not your own, hence he would not be able to see much of yourself from there.

"And can you tell me?" Mikaras inquired, with a humor-the-child tone.

"You didna eat an' you're wearin' the same thing." You replied confidently.

Mikaras looked up then, disbelieving, then smiled wryly. "Out-guessed by a child. Maybe I really should go and sleep."

"I kin see the signs," you said, because you had been hungry before and seen others hungry before. "And your clothes crumpled, like. You prob'ly slept with head onna table."

"Very good," Mikaras unconsciously echoed Winter. "Well then, what would you like to do now?"

"See Winter," you said automatically, caught yourself, then smiled sheepishly at Mikaras. "Naw. I'd juggle for a bit."

"Juggle?" Mikaras raised an eyebrow, then rooted in the drawers until he located a small bag of coins, which he gave to you. "Here you go."

You managed to get eight into the air until that ticklish feeling in the nape of your neck alerted you to the fact that Mikaras was watching you. Feeling impish, you turned his gesture back on him – you raised an eyebrow.

Mikaras chuckled and returned to his work. When you tired of juggling you returned him the bag. He glanced at you.

"I should count the coins, should I not?"

You sighed and removed the small amount of coins on your person and returned them to him.

"All the coins, my dear."

Obligingly you returned him the lot. Mikaras wasn't to be underestimated, and you wondered vaguely why he had sent Winter to do the 'dirty work' instead of leaving himself...but of course, Winter was expendable.

You crouched in your chair and simply watched everything you could at once, drawing into yourself and keeping yourself quiet, the essential part of hiding. 

Time seemed to pass slowly, marked only by the scratching of Mikaras' quill pen on papers, and his occasional mutters, which you could not decipher and did not seem important.

Then the door opened, and Mikaras looked up and smiled. "Winter. How did it go?"  
You felt a strong wash of relief as Winter, bloodied and slightly wounded in her neck and left arm but otherwise fine, sat down in the other chair, ignoring Mikaras. She tapped Irr'liancrea, then spoke words in drow that sounded like the healing spell but was subtly different.

Her wounds closed up quickly, then she looked back up. "The leader was as you say – illithid. Quite easy to kill if you have shields on your mind, but this one unexpectedly could fight. I left the dwarves alone – I doubt any of them could see me."

"Doubt?"

"Unless one of them had power surpassing my sword." Winter smiled.

"Not possible, then. Well done. Now I shall keep my side of the promise..."

"How have you been doing, Kel?" Winter glanced at you.

"Fine'm." You replied.

"It is quite impossible to concentrate on paperwork with Kel staring at me, but otherwise the child is most entertaining," Mikaras said. Entertaining? Your hackles rise a little, then you push them back down as Mikaras leaned back in his chair with the air of one going to start a long story.

"You know of Matron Baenre's amusing sally on Mithril Hall?"

"Obviously. Did this city send representatives, I wonder..."

"No. Mithril Hall is none of our business. We had trade relations, that is all...I have a sword from Mithril Hall," Mikaras said, unnecessarily, you thought. What was Mithril Hall?

"In any case...do you know who is head of the city now?" Mikaras decided, obviously, to sound out Winter's knowledge.

"Triel Baenre is head of House Baenre, which is still First House. Barrison del'Armgo is second...Q'Xorlarrin third I believe. Who cares. I am more interested in Bregan D'aerthe...they accept females now, though I believe they are watched more often. I do not know anything of this group other than that its leader Jarlaxle is the current wielder of Crenshinibon and he has not, strangely, built a Cryshal-Tirith or a crystal tower inside the city, for odd reasons of his own."

"Then what would you like to know of Menzoberranzan?" Mikaras inquired. "You seem to have the grist of the matter."

"Currently? Menzoberranzan – do they allow 'foreign' drow to enter?" Winter asked.

"Yes. They lost a large number in the defeat at Mithril Hall...newcomers are welcome, but you'd be hard put to get any adoption by a House, but I see that is not of your concern..."

"Unless I appear at the gates blatantly non-Lloth," Winter said wryly. "I am tempted to see if I can ride through the resultant scandal."

"Though the child may cause some comment." Mikaras looked at you.

"True. But I doubt it would cause a building-toppling stir." Winter said dismissively. "Now, are there any 'safe spots' you can recommend in Menzoberranzan?"

"The dwarven quarter," Mikaras said promptly. "The inn there known as...roughly translates as 'Axe wrought from Mithril' I believe. One dwarfish word translates to four drow words...interesting. That is the base for Klaendarkr spies, and also the embassy, of course, though it is an embassy no non-drow in the city should know of. You can have quarters there if no one sees you enter and leave."

"Thanks," Winter nodded. "Now to Bregan D'aerthe. Who are Jarlaxle's closest?"

Mikaras consulted a list. "This is tentative, mind. We have not been able to infiltrate Bregan D'aerthe, since it is all drow. Kimmuriel Oblodra, psionist. Rai'gy Bondalek of Ched Nasad...oh, you know of him? Yes, he was high priest once. Male priest of Lloth...most interesting, but hardly the topic of discussion here."

"Rai'gy in Bregan D'aerthe?" Winter murmured to herself. "Hmm. But the Book said that Bregan D'aerthe was instrumental in setting the coup that caused Rai'gy to drop from High priest to outcast..."

"Jarlaxle is quite the clever one," Mikaras smirked. "Inner circle has Berg'inyon, once of Baenre...Ran'deran, once of DeVir. Tantras'nen, once of Hun'ett. Three captains of three sectors of warriors, then Rai'gy for priests and Kimmuriel for magic."

"How many weapon masters does he have?" Winter blinked. "I've heard of only Berg'inyon..."

"Quite a collection. Jarlaxle takes the finest, does he not? There are probably several more, but those three are the most prominent."

"Then he should have taken Zaknafein."

"Why he did not, you would have to ask him," Mikaras shrugged. "I have heard of this Zaknafein...Zin-carla, yes? Dead now."

Winter smiled slightly but did not refute it. "Dead, certainly. A pity – he would be most amusing to meet in Menzoberranzan."

"He does not like females, from reports," Mikaras said.

"Ah? Well, I find that hard to believe." Everything from Winter seemed to speak of underlying mirth. 

"Strange that he did not take Drizzt Do'Urden...certainly he took Dinin Do'Urden and Vierna Do'Urden, albeit for a short period of time."

Winter wasn't smiling anymore, and you wondered why. Then she shrugged. "Drizzt is certainly good though not as good as his father. He lacks focus and is a most confused person, you could say. Half of him says one thing and the other half does the other..."

"You have met Drizzt?" It was not a question.

"Oh yes," Winter's eyes looked far away, and she absently pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "Quite a nice fellow. But that is not the point...I doubt he would have joined Jarlaxle's group in any case. The fact that Jarlaxle healed him is strange enough – even Za...nevermind." Winter caught herself. "Jarlaxle is most unpredictable."

"Bregan D'aerthe's move of reaching out to all cities regardless of race for information is revolutionary." Mikaras agreed. "His spy network is probably larger than mine."

"Do you know how one joins this Bregan D'aerthe?"

"One makes a large enough spectacle of oneself," Mikaras grinned. "Pick a fight somewhere, like in the main square where there is sometimes a Bregan D'aerthe soldier – incognito, of course, offering passers-by money if they beat him. Only that sword of yours is a little noticeable."

Winter drew Irr'liancrea, and murmured to it. Blue flashed once, then turned to the gleam of polished adamantite. She beamed at Mikaras.

"Now your problem is winning the fight," Mikaras said dryly.

"That may be a problem," Winter said enigmatically, "Or it may not." She sheathed the sword. "I looked at the map to Menzoberranzan, but maps change. Anything untoward on the way?"

"Illithids, but not much from them after Zaknafein and Drizzt passed through...not the same city that those two wrecked, but this one is probably also wary of drow. Blingdenstone if you use the safer route. The faster route goes near a goblin enclave, though these probably do not like drow and will try to keep away. And a large part of it is _nigouar_ - Underdark wolf – territory. Vicious little creatures. Obviously, where there is _nigouar_ there is rothe and other hooved animals, but they take offense at creatures poaching on them."

"Not much of a problem," Winter smiled.

"After that is some unknown space, then you go to the cavern of sand. It is like a miniature desert...who knows what is in there, but there are all sorts of rumors. You'd pass a few rivers on the way to the city which you can drink at, but I suggest you hold water for your passage through this place. 'Cavern' is deceiving."

"More unknown space after that, then you'd reach Mekkane, the mongrel city. It's mostly trade, and the city drow pointedly ignore it, but there's probably Bregan D'aerthe somewhere in it...though I suggest you ignore them until you reach Menzoberranzan."

Why 'mongrel city'? you wonder.

Winter glances at you. "Mongrel city, Kel, because it is just about the only city where the proportions of races are more or less equal, even drow. It will be most amusing to visit."

Amusing would not be the word you would use, but you are content to keep your peace.

"Mekkane is still under weapon law – that is, no laws at all except those your swords or magic can talk you out of. It may be a good place to impress Bregan D'aerthe, but that is entirely your choice," Mikaras shrugged. "If you would explain more of your quest I could help you more."

"Sorry, Mikaras," Winter smiled.

"It is about Crenshinibon, though?"

Winter nodded curtly. "What else do you think is important enough in Bregan D'aerthe that I should want to look into it? I have much better things to do than traipse around the Underdark."

"Teleport there."  
"And make my presence loudly felt? No thanks."

"I...see." Mikaras nodded. "Anything else you wish to know?"

Winter paused. "Can we buy supplies here?"

"Of course...I can get my dwarven friends to help you if you'd like."

"I'd give them a list. I do not want my supplies to be totally of dwarfish lager, thank you."


	4. Travels

Chapter 4

Travels

"Mindshields for Kel seem necessary," Winter commented. The two of you stared down from a slope at two minotaurs, their eyes blank, like a painted doll's. Mind controlled beasts, you realized, and shivered slightly. You could not help but pity the two huge animals. Bestial as they looked, with a massive bull's head and cruelly curving horns slicked with some dried black substance that shone dully in the light provided by Irr'liancrea, still no creature deserved to be so controlled.

"Yes," Irr'liancrea responded, and you felt a small twinge in the back of your mind, like intangible walls surrounding your thoughts. And not too soon as well, because a sudden barrage of what felt like mental 'arrows' seemed to skid off the walls.

You frowned and shuffled closer to Winter. She gave you a reassuring smile, then turned back to the minotaurs. "I would speak with your masters."

The minotaurs stared, unmoving.

Winter sighed, a little callously. "Perhaps I shall have to cut them down after all." She began to draw her sword, but then the minotaurs stepped aside, revealing a disgusting-looking creature, an illithid…it gave the impression of staring at the two of you. You blinked – you had been sure the creature had not been there a short time ago…

Winter and the creature simply stared at each other, and then she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. "It is puzzled as to why it cannot touch our minds."

"Yes'm." You feel profoundly relieved for the shields.

"I wonder if a toll would suffice…" Winter raised an eyebrow at the creature, which hesitated, then backed away. The minotaurs lumbered forward, and you let out an involuntary hiss.

"Ah, I see it wants to play." Winter murmured calmly, drawing her sword quickly, holding it in front of her, then started running forward, long strides eating up the ground. The first minotaur held up its halberd and swung it down with impossible speed, the huge blade parallel to the ground, but Winter leaped forward, perfect timing, somehow managing to use the blade as a stepping stone. 

She leaped high into the air, Irr'liancrea raised over her head for an instant before smashing down into the creature's brain. It died without a sound, and she somehow managed to free her blade, spinning for the next.

It was lumbering towards you, halberd swinging, but you were faster and you dodged quickly, easily, drawing your dagger even though you knew it is probably useless against so large a creature. You knew where to strike, at least – you ran behind the creature before it could react and plunged the wicked blade into the back of the knee joint, pulling it away, then running again.

The creature collapsed into a kneel, but the halberd was in an impossibly fast swipe…then Winter was there, and her sword clashed into the steel of the pole, somehow managing to stop the blow. Roughly she shoved you aside, then whirled with deadly grace and thrust…

The second minotaur collapsed in a spray of dark blood that colored Winter's chain mail and face.

She turned – the illithid was making some sort of magic – but unthinking, you took out one of your stones for juggling and hurled it into the creature. There is a wet crack, and it fell, unmoving.

"Good throw," Winter commented, wiping her blade on the corpse of the minotaur, then retrieving a cloth from her satchel and cleaned herself up the best she could before sheathing her sword. 

You looked down at yourself – you had escaped the more bloody parts of the fight, and your reflexes...and Winter, had saved your life. In relief you waited for the adrenaline to fade away...you had survived illithids! One illithid, to be sure, but that did not make it seem any less...sweet.

"Will 'em illithids attack us naow?" you asked, dreading the answer.

"We have shown our strength," Winter shrugged. "I hope they will not. Come, we must be on our way."

The next creatures that attacked were some sort of bats, screeching and swooping in to scratch at your eyes and face, automatically you fling your arms up to protect yourself. From Winter's exclamations you knew she was probably suffering from the same disaster. Then she snarled something, and the bats abruptly dropped away, landing noiselessly on the ground, quite dead.

You looked up in awe, but Winter's face was pale and her hands shook slightly. "I hate using that spell," she murmured, eyes haunted. She closed them and hugged herself once, then drew her sword in a blinding slash that bit open some attacker that had dropped from above us.

The attacking drow elf collapsed into a bloody heap, and Winter stared before shuddering again. "Be on your guard, Kel. It appears these illithids have allies in strange places."

"Yes'm."

"Mwah. This gets boring..." Winter peered at the pair of minotaurs lumbering into a charge in front of you. "I hate unnecessary bloodletting...opposed to necessary bloodletting, of course, and Zaknafein would...damnit, move slower you stupid rothe heads...call me nine kinds of fool, but I really _hate_ killing so impersonally...damn you!"

Winter swore quietly to herself as she inspected the gash in her chain mail. "Wonderful. I hope Petriarch does not require his armor back in excellent condition."

Your eyes were wide – Winter was the finest fighter you had ever seen...so _fast_...

"No'm," you murmured.

"Well come on then," she sighed, then shuddered again, still taken by the aftereffects of the death-spell. "How many this illithid city's 'allies' is I still have yet to find. Hopefully they would give up sooner or later...I did think that illithids were smarter than normal drow..."

"Yes'm."

"Should have asked Mikaras about this."

"Yes'm."

"Though that fellow knows so much about some far-off drow city that I feel slightly suspicious about him...how convenient that he has reports so close to hand on my target, yes?"

"Yes'm. Dwarves, they don't wanta walk 'round much inna drow city, mum."

"Well, we have a little mystery there..." The two of you rounded a corner, your gift leading you on.

"Yes'm."

"And do not call me mum."

"Yes'm."

**

The illithids finally got the hint and stopped sending attacks; hence the rest of the journey through the intersecting tunnels which would also lead to their city was relatively peaceful. There were no monsters near an illithid city.

"This is amazing. If not for our earlier encounters I would have found this route infinitely more restful." Winter seemed to be in high spirits.

"Yes'm," you replied. There was something wrong, wrong about the very place in which you walked, but you could not put your finger on it. Your gift was informing you loudly that the closest danger was waiting, waiting in your path.

"What's wrong, Kel?"

"A lot wrong, mum," you replied without thinking, and she quirked an eyebrow curiously at you. 

"A lot wrong? I wonder." Was her reply, though she continued to stride down the tunnel confidently. "Maybe you are being pessimistic. The only thing that can bother us now is a trap, and illithids don't set traps."

"Yes'm." you replied cautiously. Winter sounded so sure, but all your senses, metaphorically, where sending alarm bells to your head.

This continued for some distance, with you feeling apprehensive and Winter feeling confident, though as you walked and saw and heard nothing you felt less and less sure of your fears, until you began to question your gift.

Then a portion of the floor sank down when Winter stepped on it, and she blinked. A whistling of air – Winter's shout – you leaped automatically backwards...and a sickening crunch of metal on bone and floor...

Nearly afraid to look but not resisting the impulse, you glanced up, and felt a burst of both relief and horror, eyes wide. Winter was in a half-kneel a few body-lengths from you, breathing hard. 

A huge metal plate, several body-lengths across and wide, had been slammed into the floor. You looked up – the ceiling seemed to be torn, but when you concentrated you realized that it was...paper. Part of the ceiling was paper, painted cunningly to look like rock, with a device behind it that gleamed with the shine of metal in the dull light, which meant that Winter's triggering the trap had dropped the plate that tore through the paper, and dropped down....

The side facing down had large, thin spikes sticking out of it every so often, most of which had driven a few finger-lengths into the rock ground. One of these spikes had driven through Winter's left leg, as easily as one would pierce melting butter with a knife...

"Winter!" you realized it was the sword that spoke, and its voice held a certain degree of horror.

"It appears that I have to listen...to advice...more often," Red trickled down from the edge of Winter's mouth, she had bitten through her lip. "Damn it, I don't dare use Irr'liancrea's power here to raise this thing, it may alert Crenshinibon...I suppose I'd have to do it myself. Kel, can you hold my hand?"

You nodded dumbly and stepped forward, thrusting out your hand, and she grasped it gratefully. Each time the pain seemed to throb in her, she squeezed your hand, hissing quietly to herself. Then she took several deep breaths and closed her eyes, and spoke in a clear, steady voice, in that other tongue which meant she was attempting a spell.

The strange words flowed from her mouth, ceaselessly, monotonous, and eventually they made your heart hurt with the ponderous rhythm, over and over again...

"_Alkaen kes'kel daman riel, q'kkrdanka masnio ommico..._"

You prayed to whatever god that may be listening that no illithids would choose to show up at this moment, but continued to look warily down the tunnels, either ends, straining to catch any movement.

"_Illne, illne ma'ke la'e'g riel, riel wa'ter'ne mas'del'vian..._"

Your eyes kept returning to the pool of blood that seemed to be spreading from the site of the wound, inexorable, Winter's lifeblood that seeped onto the unmoving rock.

"_Q'alnesser dqakern maka'ma'ke vienn...viene...trie..._" Winter took a deep, sobbing breath and continued. "_Raeka, l'ien, mah'hsien..._"

You happened to be staring at the spike that had driven through her leg, and you realized that its shape seemed to be becoming less and less solid, wavering in the air. Then Winter abruptly pulled to the side, and her leg _passed through_ the spike as though it was not there. She stopped her chanting and breathed heavily for several long moments, the spike returning to solidity nearly immediately.

"Thank you, Kel," she murmured, and pulled out her leg, inspecting the gaping wound. "Oh dear." She began to speak again, this time in the spell of healing, casting the spell several times.

"Cure major wounds would drain too much of my energy," she explained before you asked the obvious question. "Though admittedly 'cure light wounds' wouldn't mend most of my leg, but I will have to bear with it until we can find shelter."

"Then hurry," the sword spoke up again.

She nodded wearily and stood up and gingerly put her weight on her injured leg, winced, then shifted her weight back. "Damn. Kel, if I ever seem to confident to you from now on, just whisper 'Illithid tunnels' to me and I will be heartily obliged."

**

There were several more traps on the way, which either you or Winter managed to find and disarm without much incident, though you would carry a scar on your upper right arm till the end of your days. 

Finally the two of you reached a flat, polished plaque mounted on the wall, with oddly intricate writing on it which was not of drow make. Winter peered at it for a moment, then smiled in satisfaction. "We're on the end of illithid territory."

"Naow's wolves," you remind her, looking at the last picture on the plaque – a stylized one of a wolf running.

"Wolves are fine...I hope." Winter thought for a moment. "You may be right. Well then, I'd have to put out a request..."

She bowed her head and sat down carefully on the ground, wincing, then appeared to freeze, going into some sort of trance. You walked slowly around her, staring, wondering what she was trying to do.

Eventually you sat down beside her, fingering the dagger scabbard at your side, and wondering if wolves and illithids got together. What could they say to each other? Illithids should understand wolves pretty well if they wanted to – mindspeech crossed all language barriers because its meaning would be more apparent than any words...but would the wolves take umbrage at such treatment? Or were they enslaved like the other creatures? Then why were there still wolf territory bordering the illithids, or did the illithids come to some sort of agreement with the wolves?

In which case, were the wolves intelligent or under some sort of protection?

Your thoughts veered further and further away, and you realized wryly why the Underdark seemed to produce so many philosophers...the total silence and the endless feel to the atmosphere seemed conducive for thought.

A "Hmph," from Winter's direction alerted you to her 'waking up', and she smiled at you. A tired smile, but a triumphant one as well. "The wolves will not be hostile," she said shortly, attempted to stand up, failed, snarled to herself, and used Irr'liancrea as support.

"Mebbe we should rest, mum," you suggested.

Winter swayed slightly but did not fall. "Nonsense. We'd be safer in the wolf territory than here."

You could think of many arguments but you mutely found yourself following her into the rest of the tunnels, then eventually taking up the lead, through intersections and caverns and over a few streams, the water slowly cutting their own channels in the rock. 

Winter stopped abruptly at the fourth stream. "Wait," she said, and so the two of you did. The stream poured down as a half-hearted waterfall in the small cavern, from a spot high up in the wall, to meander away down another tunnel. More tunnels in the cavern, with only two seeming natural, the rest...probably _thoqqua_ make and hence safe. The two natural ones were, for Winter, painfully low, and she was taking the opportunity in the cavern to stretch her back.

Or so you thought. A growl behind the two of you, and you whirled. Wolves trotted nonchalantly out of one of the _thoqqua_ tunnels, their shoulder nearly taller than you, and they did not show their teeth as they carefully fanned out. There were at least ten of them you could see here – there were more heat-signals down the tunnel where they had come from.

The wolves had gray-black fur in Winter's mage-light, and very dark amber eyes. They did not immediately slaver and jump at you as you had thought they would, but some sat down on their haunches. The combined effect of so many penetrating stares made you squirm uncomfortably.

Winter stepped forward in their direction, and after a pause a large wolf with only one and a half ears did so as well. 

You wondered if Winter was going to speak in wolf...if she did you would not be surprised.

But she did not, and after a short while as she and the wolf stared at each other, the wolf flicked its ears, and padded forward in front of Winter and yourself, keeping a careful distance. The other wolves spread themselves out unevenly around the two of you – escort, perhaps? And in this way the two of you progressed down the tunnels.

Winter had to stop now and then to cast the light wounds ritual on herself, and the wolves merely waited patiently while you hoped that whatever had happened to prevent them from attacking would hold.

Claws clicked insistently on rock as the wolves wandered around impatiently before finally settling down to wait. Then Winter stood up again, nodding to the leader, and the group stood up as one. Wolves seemed to be linked by some sort of mental bond...when the group did something it was together as a group...

Most frightening, come to think of it.

You lost count of time. Sometimes the wolves would stop, and two or three would stay behind while the rest melted away into the darkness. When they returned, bloody-jawed and satisfied, then the two or three would disappear. You could never tell them apart, but it seemed to you that there were 'substitutions' somewhere – some of the wolves seemed different as time dragged on. 

You seemed to have been walking in a group of wolves forever – Irinelaeran a memory of long ago, and the only thing keeping you from going mad was Winter's unconcerned stride beside you. You thought of the new drow city and its probable comforts, and imagined yourself there already, thinking back of the wolf tunnels and smiling. You found that image hard to keep and lost it eventually.

The wolves stopped again, at some sort of landmark, and waited. You shivered slightly – they appeared to be waiting _for_ something, and you were about to ask Winter when the something appeared – more wolves. The leader cautiously made a snuffling sound, and the lead wolf of the other pack flicked its ears. Winter led you to the next pack, your new escort, while the old ones drifted away.

Eating? Any fungus or such that the two of you could find, no meat as yet. The wolves would watch mildly as Winter cooked, and they always declined to eat. Winter probably had some internal clock on which she plotted stopping, meals and such, or perhaps it was some sort of training she had undergone before she had come to the Underdark.

There were several more such escort exchanges, and Winter explained at one that the two of you were crossing _nigouar_ territories, hence the changes. 

Once you managed to grasp a question which had been nagging at you for a while. "How did you git the wolves t' leave us alone?"

Winter peered down at you, but the wolves, thankfully, ignored you. "How? I asked...a spirit, yes, you could call it a spirit. It...is the first wolf, you could say. I threatened it – if it didn't get these to give us free passage, I would simply destroy any wolf I come across. Much simpler this way, don't you think?"

You were speechless. First wolf? Spirit? What spirit could have such power?

"Questions, questions," Winter murmured. "Simply accept it is so. I may have to explain it to you another day, maybe, but for now we walk. That does sound like a stupid thing to say, come to think of it."

"Do wolves talk? T' each other?" You looked at the escort.

"To each other? Yes and no. Certainly not the way we are talking to each other...it is hard to explain. You probably would not understand it, the same way a wolf would not understand how we can convey emotions, feeling and such just in words and little body language."

"Ah."

"Do you miss Irinelaeran, Kel?"

"Yes'm."

"Truly...sorry, come to think of it. My only thought in Irinelaeran was completing my mission, but now...if you do wish to return I will portal you back. I will just have to change my plans a little."

You stared. Winter seemed...was sincere. And she did need you, as a guide to Menzoberranzan...Crenshinibon's location was bright and clear to you, and you only, here. And none of the others would want to undertake this task.

You did miss Irinelaeran.

Perhaps in a million universes you agreed and returned and continued your life there. In a million universes Winter may or may not have made it to Menzoberranzan. Perhaps in a few of them...without your help she could have died, or given up, or worse.

"I'm stayin', mum," you said then. You did not have choice in the matter in Irinelaeran, but now you did, and you chose Winter.

"Thanks...thank you very much, Kel." And she was silent.


	5. White Hunters

Chapter 5

White Hunters

The wolves glanced around nervously, then padded away. The current Leader looked back once, and whined almost apologetically before following its pack. Winter chuckled at some joke known only to herself, then stared out into the new cavern.

It was mostly undulating piles of sand, gritty sand that was probably simply disintegrated rock. Like someone had taken an immense hammer and pulverized a huge section of solid rock in the Underdark – before us, before the immense tunnel mouth that led to the cavern, was a seemingly endless stretch of sand.

Winter raised Irr'liancrea which let out a modicum of brighter light, a grudging, grayish blue which showed that the sword did not approve, and squinted away over the sand. "I cannot see the end of it," she said, morbidly, then sheathed her sword and stepped forward, boots crunching softly into the sand.

"That light is a beacon for any monsters which this place may hold," Irr'liancrea said irritably. Winter ignored it.

You followed quickly, then began to lead Winter over the apparently endless distance. It was eerily silent. You had expected monsters or worse, perhaps some evil sorcerer that built a huge tower and ruled this barren place with an iron fist – but nothing, nothing at all. After three sleeps, there still seemed to be no end of the sand, and yet no sound. The advice about water had been well given – there seemed to be nothing but fine sand in this place.

After the fifth sleep (you had been counting time in the number of times Winter stopped the trek to lay out rolls for sleeping, since there were no clocks here) you thought you saw the faintest gleam of light to the northeast – you pointed it out to Winter, who chuckled again to herself and refused to say anything else.

Whatever it was, it was alive. Your gift pointed it out as the next living thing closest to you and Winter.

During the next hours of walking you realized that the light seemed to be getting closer, as if the two of you were approaching it. You asked this again of Winter, softly – the vastness of the cavern seemed to breed silence – and she chuckled again.

This was beginning to get annoying.

After the eight sleep, a few hours, the light abruptly brightened, a ring of them. You blinked – to the northwest, a fair distance away, was what appeared to be a ring of caravans. Four caravans, thin-sided and made of some strange, whitish substance.

The hardness of the light betrayed it as mage-light, and you felt wary, but Winter was heading straight for them and you could only follow and hope she knew what she was doing.

Then Irr'liancrea's light revealed something soft and sharp and large to the side in front. You squinted – it was as tall as Winter's shoulder and massive – and realized to your terror that it was the biggest spider you had ever seen.

You let out a gasp of horror which Winter blinked at, then she smiled down at you. "Nothing to worry about," she murmured, then shouted, "Greetings to the camp!"

The spider scuttled forward, and you realized it was some huge species of tarantula – spiky fur on its legs and body, many beady black eyes, and two curving, giant fangs. It appeared to study the both of you calmly.

Then a figure ducked out from behind it, emerging from darkness to Irr'liancrea's light – drow! And strange drow at that – male, wearing shirt and breeches and no armor. Boots, plain, leather. Tattered, discoloured robe. Scruffy, long hair, common-enough, rugged features, and a wide ingratiating smile. 

"Who are you?" he asked politely.

"A Loremaster of Morikan's," Winter replied. "And this is a friend of mine known as Kel."

"Morikan...can you prove it?"

Winter unfastened her robe and swept it in front of her. In Irr'liancrea's light the underside showed the design of the white dragon that you had seen before. She laced it back onto her shoulders.

The male let out a low whistle. "Ah. And your business?"

"I would like to meet Qarrin," Winter smiled. "She comes highly recommended."

The male nodded, at some secret satisfaction. "Wait here." He patted the spider affectionately – _patted_, without being bitten! – and it chirred at him. "I hope Xal're did not startle you."

"No," Winter nodded graciously at the creature.

You wondered, a little faintly, how many more revelations would rise to the surface as you found yourself being introduced to a few more giant spiders and drow of both sex as the male returned and led everyone towards the main caravan. Whoever these drow were, both sexes seemed to be on equal footing. They all seemed to have at least one spider friend, and they all wore no armor and watched us as we passed them with curiosity.

Qarrin turned out to be a female, of dark beauty, carelessly sprawled on the doorframe of the first caravan, digging her fingernails with a large knife. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you approached, glanced at Winter, then nodded to herself.

"Thank you, Pie'rre." She told the male, and he withdrew. "So," she continued, not looking at us, "You are Winter."

"That I am," Winter inclined her head graciously.

"Hmph. How goes that annoying member of our mutual race now known as a Sword Master?"

"Fine, last I saw," Winter smiled, a noncommittal smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. There was a silence where both females seemed to evaluate each other, then Qarrin waved the both of you to be seated, and Winter pulled you up to the caravan platform before hoisting herself up with the grace of a gymnast.

You realized that the caravan seemed to be made of some hardened web, like a new type of cobweb compacted together to a substance harder than wood...but Qarrin was speaking before you could comment.

"Knew him before he went to Menzoberranzan. Promising fellow...even if his attitude was...is terrible. Told him he'd go to a sticky end...turns out that he went to two of them. Ha."

"Before he went to Menzoberranzan?" Winter stared blankly at Qarrin, composure dropped for an instant before she recovered graciously. "I was under the impression he was born there."

"Born there?" Qarrin snorted. "Of course not. If he was born there he'd just be like any other spineless drow. Purebred city drow are so pathetic. Oh, he may say he's born there – outsider drow were not welcome four hundred years ago. He may even believe it now. He is those sort of people who create all sorts of masks for themselves and never manage to merge them – when one mask grows out of place they simply destroy it utterly. I would think that the mask he wears now is most different from the one he wore in Menzoberranzan. Everything about Zaknafein is usually under rigid control."

You listened, confused, to the rather neurotic conversation that was going on above your head, thought of asking a question, then decided the better of it.

"Then where did he come from? If you do not mind me asking." Winter amended, as Qarrin began to look amused at the questions.

"He? Ah...probably another of the Wandering Tribes." Qarrin shrugged. You had never heard of the Wandering Tribes before, and you felt lost in the sea of words.

"Alone? In the Underdark?" Winter looked incredulous.

"He has a lot of good and bad luck. Bad luck was to get seriously injured by stumbling into a _waerse_ fungus cavern after he struck out on his own, good luck was for us to find him when he crawled out to die," Qarrin smirked. "Lucky for him."

"Which tribe?" Winter pressed.

"He never said. He's a private person...but I would think it was Kae'lesh'ra...the Named blades. Certainly he inherited their fighting skills...if not their unreliable luck." Qarrin shook her head briefly. "Why are we discussing him?"

Winter ignored that hint to get to the point. "Named blades? But I have never seen his Name sword..."

"He gave it to us when we dropped him off at Menzoberranzan." Qarrin smiled at Winter's start of astonishment.

"What?"

"He gave it to us. I did tell you about his masks. He wanted to start afresh, the silly fellow. I suppose four centuries may have made him wiser...he was the most naive person I had ever seen then." 

Winter blinked. "Are we talking about the same person?"

"Zaknafein, yes?" Qarrin inquired.

"Yes..._really _Zaknafein?"

"Why should I lie to you?"

"Zaknafein? _Naive_? Sounds more like his son..." Winter paused at Qarrin's smirk. "Ah, I see history is repeating itself. How fun. Though if Drizzt does manage to get to four centuries at the rate he's going, I personally will be very surprised."

"Hmph," Qarrin snorted.

"Have you passed Menzoberranzan lately?" Winter abruptly changed the subject.

"Last week."

"Any news?" Winter grinned.

"What sort of news? Like what color robes are Gromph wearing today? Or the latest gossip on Triel Baenre? Be more specific," Qarrin returned to her nails with studied care.

"Like the most neutral, no-questions-asked inn to stay at," Winter said. "Then you can tell me about Mikaras."

"What are you giving me?" Qarrin grinned. "Oh very well. Morikan did instruct us that a Loremaster would pass this way, though I did not expect a drow. That inn would be the Sword Hilt inn on Draeka street, though they may charge quite a price."

"Money is not much of a problem," Winter said complacently, and you blinked.

"Mum..." you began.

"Shh, Kel."

"As to Mikaras...not much is known about him, really," Qarrin admitted. "He is not from Irinelaeran, but from Menzoberranzan."

"He has an Irinelaeran accent," Winter pointed out, though by the narrowing of her eyes you thought that she had some of her suspicions confirmed.

"He spent some time there. Business is unknown," Qarrin continued, "However, he then had that famous accident of his. Found by duergar, almost killed, managed to make friends with them, and now he's doing what he knows best."

"Any affiliation to outside drow?" Winter inquired blandly.

"Not that I can see." Qarrin shrugged. "Mikaras is also a rather private person. He does not like publicity very much – keeps a low profile."

"Menzoberranzan...that city does breed a lot of wanderers," Winter mused to herself, but Qarrin took it as a de facto question.

"Menzoberranzan is a strange city by rights," Qarrin said, "Hardly any of the drow cities would even think of invading the surface world. Hardly any drow cities even rigidly follow that primitive ranking system any longer. And hardly any of them still have civil wars, even if it is just inter-house. And even fewer are pure Lloth-worshippers. Although there are some cities whom still have that Females Are Better Than Males policy, I cannot think of any other offhand that pursue it to Menzoberranzan's degree. Zaknafein made a bad choice when he decided to 'start anew' there."

"Should have chosen Irinelaeran?" Winter raised an eyebrow.

"No, perhaps Q'Xarr'rae." Qarrin grinned. "First drow city set up by a male."

"Still exists?" Winter blinked.

"Why yes," Qarrin smiled. "The Underdark is a large place. And one of Q'Xarr'rae's more endearing characteristics is that it is a city of agnostics and athiests. Has been destroyed and rebuilt several times, however. Q'Xarr'raenians appear to offend many people easily."

"I knew that," Winter muttered. "Very well, back to Menzoberranzan. Are there any unspoken rules in there?"

"Do not speak back to a priestess," Qarrin recited blandly, "If you are a commoner, respect a noble. This sort of rule. I probably have a book somewhere..." she got up and entered the caravan.

You looked up carefully at Winter. "Who're these people?" you ask softly.

"One of the Wandering Tribes. Or rather, they are classed as one, even though they deny it. They're the White Hunters, or Bl'anc'Tree'a." Winter leaned back comfortably. "Only tribe adopted by Morikan. They're allied to those huge white spiders you saw – all friends. No special bond or anything, but most spiders only have one rider until that rider dies or they die themselves. If the former, then they simply choose another rider or return to their homeworld. Yes, they are not from this realm – Morikan merely makes it convenient for them to enter and leave."

"I ain't 'eard o' 'em before," you said doubtfully. "An' o' the Wanderin' Tribes."

"I'm not surprised," Winter nodded. "They are only well known in the non-Lloth cities. Especially if said cities are non-drow."

"Mum, 'bout Mikaras...is 'e bad?"

"Bad? I doubt it. I liked him, and so does Irr'liancrea. No, I just believe, to use a famous phrase, there's more to him than meets the eye."

Qarrin reappeared, waving a rather battered looking book which she handed in a flourish to Winter. Winter took it graciously and thumbed through the pages, before snapping the book shut.

"Thanks," she said.

Qarrin grinned. "Anything for a Loremaster. However, you can now oblige me by talking about Sanctuary."

"What do you want to know?" Winter hugged the book to herself absently.

"My alma mater, of course. Warrior School." Qarrin smiled. "More precisely..." she reached into the dark, leather smelling recesses of the caravan and pulled out a spear, with a tassel of an iridescent, unidentifiable color and inscriptions on the handle.

"Spear classes," Winter grinned. "Spear master...there's a new one, did you know?"

"What happened to Tre'ile?" Qarrin asked.

"Accident involving twenty armed elves with elf-shot on another world," Winter said wryly.

Qarrin winced. "Another good one is lost. And the new one? Marist, I believe?"

"No, Elikkar," Winter smirked at Qarrin's look of astonishment.

"The Saur?" Qarrin said slowly. 

"The Saur," Winter confirmed. 

"I don't believe it," Qarrin said slowly. "No, I really don't."

Saur? Spear Master? You sighed to yourself. The both of them did look as though they were enjoying, to a small degree, your fog of incomprehension. 

**

"Do not tell me you are bringing that child into Menzoberranzan," Qarrin pointed at you with her knife, and you took an involuntary step back.

"Kel? I am afraid Kel is following me," Winter said calmly.

"Menzoberranzan is not pro-life." Qarrin grinned. "There is no way you can pull off any disguise if people see you are caring for a child with no apparent power and with no apparent value."  
"Oh, Kel has a most useful gift," Winter said graciously.

"That may be even worse, if you think about it," Qarrin pointed out, and you did think about it. What if other people wanted your gift? People who were not like Winter or Petriarch?

"True," Winter agreed. "What do you suggest?"

"Change Kel's shape," Qarrin made a vague gesture.

"Into?" Winter pressed.

"Ask Kel," Qarrin waggled her eyebrows at you. "Well, child?"

"Not one of the other sentient races," Winter cautioned.

"Animal, then," Qarrin agreed.

"Nigouar?" you said tentatively. You did admire those fierce looking creatures. And if the transformation was only for your body and not for your mind, you would not be able to fly, at any rate. Any hoofed animals may invite questions as to why Winter was not riding. A flashy bird or that sort of mage's pet may invite potential buyers and thefts. But a wolf...a type of animal famous for having a mind of its own...

"Good one," Winter approved.

Qarrin was not so quick to do so. "Can you walk like one? Behave like one? Nigouar are complex animals, and they have all sorts of behaviors that you'd need a lifetime of study to reproduce."

"Some sort of different nigouar, then," Winter said, dismissive, "I doubt Menzoberranzan is quite aware of the species, at any rate. Certainly Irinelaeran ideas about the so called Underdark Wolf is incredible at best, downright absurd at worst."

"How can you change Kel? According to you, using that much magic from Irr'liancrea so close to Menzoberranzan is dangerous."

"One tends to agree," the sword spoke up. Irr'liancrea spoke less and less often now that you were nearing Menzoberranzan.

"Ah, I suppose I will have to try one of those much-vaunted Loremaster spells," Winter looked resigned. "Sit down, Kel."

Winter sat down as well, then Qarrin followed, cross-legged on the sand, watching curiously as Winter began to speak clearly in the other tongue, a singsong rhythm now, as if telling a lively story.

You frowned – nothing seemed to be happening. And nothing did, for about fifteen minutes while you became more and more bored, and Qarrin more and more interested. Then tickling at your neck made you reach up – your hair was growing longer! You blinked, and looked at your hands, rubbing one absently, and blinking further at the fine fuzz of fur which was already present.

Your body changed gradually over the next three hours, while Winter chanted out ceaselessly and the three of you began to attract a small audience. There was no pain, just a cramping and stretching sensation at certain parts. You wriggled out of your clothes finally, new claws scrabbling on the sand, then Winter's eyes seemed to focus on you, and she smiled.

"Voila, as M'sieur AndrÀ is wont to say." Winter beamed at you and the rest of the White Hunters gathered around.

You walked a cautious circle around your clothes. Four legs took some adjusting to, and it an embarrassing while later, filled with helpful comments and unhelpful laughter, that you managed to walk in a straight line without falling on your muzzle. 

Winter left you to the babysitting of several highly entertained White Hunters, and went to speak with Qarrin.

When you mastered walking, or trotting, as one of the Hunters put it, you went on to trying to run, a disaster from the outset, but you managed a sedate lope. The world looked different from nigouar eyes – there were colors, but each object had its own scent, as well. Scent showed up in your 'vision', in the form of textures. The spiders had a knobby textured smell, and drow a smooth, creamy one. Each creature, however, had different 'feels' to their smells, and you tried to concentrate on differentiating each scent until your head reeled.

"Kel?" Winter was asking for you, so you loped back to her, taking pride in the fact that you had not once tripped over your long legs. 

She smiled down at you, then adjusted her armor. "Come, we must be going."

"Wait," Qarrin approached quickly, then tossed a cloth-wrapped, long bundle to Winter. She unwrapped it to find two scabbards of plain black leather, one empty, and one containing a sword, the lighter sort of swords for one-handed use. 

She drew it, admiring the easy-to-grip hilt and the blade, then peered at one edge. "Serrated," Winter said slowly. "This is a Name blade, is it not? I cannot think of any other with such quality..." 

The blade's rainbow sheen was apparent even in the dim light, the mark of perfect workmanship, accomplished without magic.

"Unfortunately," Qarrin nodded. "Guess who."

"You are giving it to me?" Winter said, disbelieving, "His name blade?"

"If you would take it. I do not use swords, and it seems a waste to leave it to rot in a caravan. No one else here would use it, besides."

"I do not fight with one-handed swords," Winter said, though her resolve was visibly breaking down. The blade was very handsome, a quiet, simply unique beauty which would have been marred if the hilt had been, like so many other swords, carved into strange designs.

"A good disguise, eh? They will look for a single blade elf, if they are already aware of you. Enjoy using it," Qarrin smiled, a little wistfully. Winter said nothing, but clasped the other female's hand, then belted the scabbards on. A few murmured requests, and Irr'liancrea obligingly shrunk enough to fit into the empty scabbard. Its normal scabbard disappeared without fuss. Winter patted it, and the hilt changed to a replica of the Name blade.

"One more thing, Qarrin," Winter paused again. "Is _it_ still there? The _tagnik'zur-tur'rilthiir_?"

Half elf which was a dragon? You blinked at Winter's words.

Qarrin's eyes held a world of mischief. "Did you think it could die?"

Winter laughed at that, another joke that passed over your head, then started off over the desert, you trotting by her side, listening to the 'best wishes' which floated over from the White Hunters.

You realized you could still invoke your gift, and led her out of the White Hunters' encampment.

Eventually the two of you left the desert-cavern and struck out back into the Underdark with relief.

The Underdark was an easier place to navigate now. If you concentrated you could make out each pitfall and crevasse simply by smelling them out. Even when infrared was not apparent, and it often was not, your nose told you everything.

"Normally nigouar do not see colors," Winter's voice sounded unnaturally loud to your enhanced ears, "So I changed your eyes a little."

You wanted to thank her and realized you could not speak, only a little bark.

"Couldn't change your voice box," Winter admitted. "Sorry."

You wanted to reassure her but could not, and compensated for bumping her leg with your nose. 

The 'unknown area' to Mekkane was uneventful except for a few bats, which flapped out of your way and squeaked indignantly. You found that although you had taken a nigouar shape, you had not taken their instincts or their tastes – you much preferred your food cooked, still, and you had absolutely no idea how to hamstring a person. Or howl.

The route finally became more and more 'marked' by sentient creatures – rubbish strewn here and there, and the marks of carts and rothe and other domestic creatures. One sleep's journey away from the city, Winter stopped and began an elaborate disguise – her hair she hacked off shorter with a blade, even though it would still fit into a nice ponytail, it would not be to the hips, as before. 

Makeup took a long time to apply, then she spent twice that time chanting to herself. Finally when she raised Irr'liancrea's light up a little to show off, you realized that the male mercenary you had seen that day in the market was back. Winter grinned crookedly at you, then touched her enhanced cheekbones. "This probably would not last a full body-check, but it is passable as a male. And blue eyes...I am afraid those will have to go." She concentrated a little, and when she looked back at you her eyes were a dark brown.

Without further word, she started off towards Mekkane. You noted that her stride was longer now, and her shoulders slightly hunched. Her cloak was turned around again, such that the plain side was the visible side, and the two of you approached the mongrel city.


	6. Mekkane

Chapter 6

Mekkane

Mekkane was of several large caverns with the walls broken down, forming one irregular cavern. Everything about the city seemed irregular, from the wide tunnel that sloped down to it which the two of you now walked on, to the aggressively uneven ceiling. 

One, there were no guards apparent as the two of you sauntered into the city, to all the world a fairly successful mercenary and his 'pet'. Two, races of all kinds hurried about their business in the city, which reeked of rubbish, spices, and smoke from lamps. Three, the quarter of the city the two of you had entered in appeared to be the market – strange for it to be on the outside of the city, but apparently the market was, literally, surrounding the city – the city was in rings.

The outer ring was the market, the ring inside that the offices, then the houses and miscellaneous. Most strange...usually cities were not planned like that.

Most of those passing the two of you merely gave you slightly apprehensive glances, and ignored Winter. She wandered rather happily around the stalls, admiring the wide variety of items sold, until you began to wonder whether she had forgotten about the main reason as to why the two of you had entered Mekkane in the first place.

You were a large nigouar, and could mostly look at what the stalls held – pottery of amazing craftsmanship, sold by a gnarled goblin with bad teeth and worse breath, hunks of bloody meat at a butcher's, and cooked food, nearly every fifth stall here. Winter bought some sort of fruity wine in a flask, which she managed to slip you some (cupped in her hand), sausages of which you ate quite a few (keeping in _nigouar_ character) and some bread and melted cheese, which she chewed at thoughtfully.

Passing a store of exotic pets, where Winter looked wistfully at a snow fox, caught from the Surface World. It barked at you and tried to flatten itself into the part of its cage furthest from you – you bared your teeth in a laugh that came out like a growl, and it squealed in terror. Hurriedly you shut your mouth, and the shopkeeper, a _harguk_ or non-duergar dwarf, backed away slightly from you. 

"_Malla sargtlin_," the _harguk_ said in passable drow, "Your pet is well trained, I hope?" _Sargtlin_ being drow for 'drow warrior', with '_Malla_' a term of honor.

"Shebali is not a pet, but _abbil_," Winter said coolly. 

"Friend? Ah," the _harguk_ said quickly. "Would you be interested in any of my goods?"

The merchant was losing the initiative, and Winter took pity on him. "No," she said, if not unkindly, and stalked off. You followed before the rest of the creatures decided to panic.

You wondered about your new name as you padded beside her.

"Shebali, or rogue," Winter winked down at you. "What people believe _nigouar _should be, no?"

You curled your lip up in a weak smile.

The two of you wandered aimlessly through Mekkane, the noise level beginning to get on the nerves of both of you, then Winter stopped abruptly outside a shabby looking, disreputable tavern which was strangely large for its type of building, and squinted at the sign – Sithyrr, the Hand Crossbow. You wondered vaguely why drow or dwarf taverns normally ended up being called weapons, then froze as Winter boldly entered. Without much choice, you slunk in after her, noting belatedly what Winter had noticed – the sounds of weapons clashing within.

The interior of the tavern was dim-lit with dark lanterns. There was a bar to the far left, and many round tables and rickety chairs at erratic positions. All attention was on a large cage of metal where a deceptively slender, tall male drow holding two swords was dueling with a duergar with the customary large axe. The duergar was getting the worst of it, even if he was competent with his barbaric weapon – the male drow was too fast for him.

Winter chuckled to herself and murmured something about for a moment thinking it to be Zaknafein, then watched as the drow finally knocked the duergar unconscious. The cage was opened and the duergar dragged out, and the drow male crossed his swords defiantly.

"Any others wish to challenge me?" he asked, in the rough tongue known commonly as _tu'rilthiir_, half drow, half many other languages, fast becoming a leading common language of the Underdark, quiet voice somehow reaching out over the crowd, and he calmly flicked the blood from his blades. "No? Then I win the prize..."

"What is this prize?" To your horror, Winter was speaking in a studied, amused manner designed to provoke.

The drow male peered at her, then inclined his head at a table next to the cage. On it were several small bags, open, the contents adamantite coins, more coins than you had seen in one place before.

Winter smiled whimsically. "I believe I may deign to try."

She walked up the shallow steps and entered the cage, drawing her swords. The door clicked shut behind her, and you had to sit at the foot of the steps and watch. No one bothered you, which was unsurprising.

The male drow did not recognize Winter for a female – he simply bowed slightly as he would to a fellow male competitor. "Your name, _sargtlin_?"

"No need for it," Winter returned the bow, then attacked without warning. The male managed to put up his swords in time, and even than the clash of metal drove him back for a moment before Winter danced away. Irr'liancrea had been disguised as a twin of the Name blade...wild of hair, eyes and armor, Winter seemed like a member of the Wandering Tribes herself.

They attacked and pushed each other back and forth, and you wondered why some people chose to call sword fighting a dance – it was just a fight, with opponents trying their best to kill each other, and your heart was in your mouth, and you wondered how people could find entertainment out of watching this savagery...

There was a break in the battle, and the male crossed his swords and lunged forward, hands curving out, a scissors-like move, which seemed too close to Winter to handle...

Metal on metal, light reflecting off adamantite...

One of Winter's blades – the Name blade – caught the two swords a few inches from her face, and her other blade...

The blunt edge of the changed Irr'liancrea slammed forcefully into the male's ribs, driving him backwards, then further back as Winter whirled and kicked his face with a classic roundhouse kick.

You would have frowned if you could – Winter could have killed the male if she had used the sharp edge...

The male had apparently realized this too, because he glanced at Winter warily, then straightened. "Why?"

"I do not want to kill you," Winter raised an eyebrow. "Why for?"

The male looked so comically nonplussed that you laughed, a coughing sound that everyone, thankfully, ignored, even if the entire tavern was now hushed.

The male seemed to take it as a quirk of Winter's, and then he attacked again, a flurry of stabs, not caring to see if one managed to mark Winter before launching the next one, a furious assault that Winter, her back to you, seemed to be trying her best to parry. She finally managed to catch both his blades in hers, and shoved him bodily backwards.

With morbid fascination, you watched as blood drops formed irregular small circles under her. At least one of the stabs had hit its target, then.

Winter chuckled, slightly strained in pain. "A special move? I have not seen its like."

The male grinned. "It should have killed you."

"How amazingly blunt." Winter raised her right hand up to her (shoulder?) gingerly, then moved into another stance, turned to the side, right leg in front of the left leg, swords parallel to the ground, right hand crossed over the left with the hilt near her ear, left hilt near her waist. "Maybe you can counter this."

The male had obviously not seen this unorthodox move before, either, and he held up his swords before him, a traditional 'ready' stance.

Winter lunged forward, right sword arching up, left sword down, and the male was too confused to try and attack through the obvious opening, so he went for her swords, also arching his swords wide.

Winter went for _his_ opening. She abruptly spun around in mid-charge such that her back faced him, still moving, she hit his wrists with her elbows, causing him to drop his swords, then spun again, tightly, right sword's sharp edge against his throat.

They paused there for a moment, then Winter stepped backwards. "Pick up your swords," she said cheerfully.

"What?" the male looked stunned, and rightfully so.

"We are continuing, aren't we?" Winter grinned, enjoying herself even though blood began to stain her cloak as well. "Your go."

Warily, he did so, then while still crouched down he abruptly stretched forward, the large step by his right leg bringing him into striking distance.

Winter bit out a curse and whirled, stamping with one foot and managing to catch his left wrist between boot and ground, but with his right hand he stabbed upwards...

Too close to parry without causing it to slash away and still injure her...

She dropped the Name blade and her hand flashed forward. Time seemed to stand still, the two figure frozen in the cage, then you realized that somehow, the male's blade had not impaled her on it.

You trotted around the cage, and saw with a certain degree of awe that Winter had caught the blade delicately between the third and fourth fingers on her right hand, managing to stop it from plunging into her heart.

"Still wish to continue?" Winter inquired calmly.

"_Dos phuul alur taga ussa_," the male said wryly, the pure, musical drow tongue sounding strange in the earthy environment. _You are better than me_.

Winter inclined her head graciously. "So who won?"

The male winced as her boot pressure increased. "_Dos, malla sargtlin!_"

Winter inclined her head again, then turned her back on the male. Strangely, he did not indulge in a backstab, but stood up gingerly and watched her go with an odd expression on his face that seemed...calculating? 

Winter got to the table and shoved all the bags except one into her satchel. The last she tossed back into the cage under the male's nose. "For being a good fighter," she smiled, then ducked quickly out of the tavern. Behind her, whispers started amongst the audience.

You shot a last look at the male, then padded out after her.

Outside, Winter was cursing under her breath, as she wandered into a side street which was considerably better smelling than the tavern. Fingers made the customary patterns for a healing spell over her wound in the shoulder which looked rather deep, and the wound obligingly closed up. Winter smelled of blood and metal, and she grinned down at you.

"That was fun," she murmured.

Your mouth gaped open. What had it achieved, some fight in a dingy tavern? Not to mention the absolutely weird attitude of that male drow...

Winter wandered down the street quickly, and you had to lope to catch up. "Perhaps you should know that the Sithyrr is a Bregan D'aerthe-run establishment," she chuckled. 

You let out a questioning cough.

"I've shielded us from eavesdroppers," Winter shrugged. "Don't worry. I am quite aware of the fact that we are being followed. In any case, I have a side quest to complete here."

Side quest?

"Last time we stopped to rest, the voices?" Winter reminded you gently. Ah yes, the tiny glowing green ball and the flurry of voices behind it, rough, gentle, querulous, amused...

"They informed me a quest had come up a few days ago for Mekkane, and I was the closest qualified to do it," Winter said distractedly. "Somewhere in the resident quarter. Among complaints. Apparently Zaknafein has disappeared somewhere with a gold elf and a moon elf, there has been a new and unlikely accident involving a basketball, a chicken and a set square which caused the Zeta-section of the Loremaster guild to catch fire...those sort of incidents. Hmph."

You decided not to ask.

As the two of you entered the hub circle which was (roughly) the center of the city, you realized that the richer the houses seemed, the closer they were to the center, which was a ugly tower of some ivory-colored rock, unadorned, crude, and boring. Winter stopped outside one of the rich houses, and looked around.

The houses were without gardens, and were full of adornments. Most of them stood on their own, some had walls joined together, all of them were clean, pretty, and quiet. Very strangely quiet.

"Most of the rich should be in the commercial district," Winter commented, "Except for a few. Now, stay here, please."

You sat down on the clean cobbles beside a pillar, as Winter peered at the three-storey, blue-stoned miniature mansion before her, and then disappeared into the small street down it.

You shook yourself and settled down for a long wait. You could smell whoever was following the two of you down the street, well hidden except for their scent – drow, the both of them. Male drow...Bregan D'aerthe? And you wondered if Bregan D'aerthe knew that Winter and yourself were here in disguise...or were they just curious as to why a lone _sargtlin_ and a _nigouar _were wandering around in the residential area.

More likely they wanted to recruit Winter, you decided. If that was a 'testing ground' for potential recruits, that tavern...well, Winter had certainly attracted their attention.

You fell asleep once, while waiting, then woke with a start out of a nightmare which you thankfully could not remember, and hoped that Winter was fine. She would be, wouldn't she?

You were beginning to panic when she strolled calmly out of the side street, male guise still perfectly in place, the only difference being a bit more blood on her chain mail.

What had she done?

"That was not too hard," Winter chuckled, and by the change in direction of her voice – she didn't seem to be speaking to you – you knew that the shield against silence was off. So she was speaking to the followers? Why?

"Worried, Shebali? You of all should know that a _noamuth velg'larn_ always gets his mark. Come now." She snapped her fingers, and you thought about this new layer of disguise she had put on the two of you – a Wandering assassin? 

That was a covert branch by _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_, the famous Royal Drow Security Institute...you only knew about them because Petriarch also hired out his inn to the occasional one. _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_ usually only produced _Veldriss_ and _Veldruk_, Shadow Mistresses and Masters, but occasionally a select few could be _noamuth velg'larn_, those that owed no fealty to the institute and worked only for money. 

Maybe Winter was enjoying herself too much, you realized sourly. She couldn't really have been trained in _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_.

"How do you know?" Winter was speaking to you again now, which meant the shield was back up.

She...

"Graduate," Winter smiled. "Not first class, of course, but good enough. All nobles of House Ra'Kest can choose either to learn in the institutes in Irinelaeran or get a House-sponsored scholarship to outside institutes. I chose _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_, to my Matron's dismay...but training for high priestess could always be delayed. To her surprise I did graduate."

"Has been a long time since I used the title. How fun. Maybe I should exhibit my _ilinsar_ as well. This should impress those two. Except the amulet is in my rooms at Sanctuary..."

Excessive, you thought, disapprovingly.

"Oh very well," Winter sniffed. "Now for that tower."

Tower?

The two of you walked half-around the tower, seeing no door, then Winter smiled, in satisfaction, and walked _through_ the stone. You blinked, but automatically followed...

A faint fog of white, and you were inside. The interior of the tower seemed to be a large, winding stone staircase towards some room at the top. Winter grumbled, then started up.

After a long grueling climb, the two of you surfaced into the top room – a room made even more cramped by the clutter in it. There was a single, badly cut window, a mass of cloth in a corner that looked like a bed, a table and a chair, and the rest of the room was filled with shelves so full of books some had overflowed onto the stone ground.

What you thought was a badly torn cloak hung on the chair unfolded itself.

A winged drow?

A rather large male drow, normal except for the huge dragon wings from his shoulders and the slender, scaly tail that snaked out from under his dull green robes. The embroidery was long faded, and the belt torn and patched, and the boot leather scratched, but the drow seemed to command the room with his presence.

The scales were black, their shine like finest obsidian, the wings supple and the clawed tip, when folded, arching higher than the drow's head, and the taloned ends nearly brushing the floor.

Gold eyes of a dragon, slitted like a reptile's, stared down at Winter. "Have a ssseat, my dear," he said in a sibilant, hissing baritone.

"Don't use that voice on me," Winter chided the creature, sitting down on a stack of books. "You know it gets on my nerves."

"_Nelgetha ussa,_" The voice became smooth drow. "Forgive me. What brings you back here after so many years?"

"Information," Winter leant back. "Assistance."

"Do you never visit another socially?" the creature sat back on its...his chair. You sat down next to Winter, warily. "But I see you become more and more interesting each time you visit. A _nigouar_ which is not _nigouar_, and a Name blade, and male guise? Bravo, Winter. What will you be next time? Disguised as a drider? An exotic dancer?"

"Stop rambling, _tagnik'zur_," Winter chided. "Now, I need you to send a message back to Sanctuary."

"Ah, I see that you have used the more polite name which I have, which means you do need my help seriously. Very well. Message on...?"

Winter tossed a slightly bloody medallion to the creature. It was a long silver chain on a single adamantite sphere, perfect, but otherwise plain.

The creature peered at the sphere, then shrugged, and began to trace a shape in the air with one finger, of which, you realized morbidly, the nail was long and pointed. The line he traced began to glow red, then the space within cleared to show a considerably brighter place, of a desk behind which a human, sat. He raised an eyebrow at all of you, then smiled at Winter.

They spoke in the tongue which Winter used to cast her spells, then she took the medallion back from the creature and tossed it through the portal. The human caught it clumsily, then noted something down in the large book before him, then nodded and waved.

The creature clenched its fist theatrically and the portal disappeared.

"Thanks," Winter smiled. 

"Very neatly done," he replied. "Now, as to information...that flamboyant display in the Sithyrr has served your purpose. Those two are probably still tailing you, though it may seem rather suspicious if you were to continue to speak so loudly before them. Keep in character, Winter. _Noamuth velg'larn_ do not give away secrets so carelessly."

"Sorry," Winter snickered.

How had it...he known so much?

"_Tagnik'zur_ has many secrets," Winter said without turning her head.

He chuckled. "It is an amusement to one who will live forever. Dragons, eh?"

"Can I trust Qarrin and Mikaras?" Winter grinned.

"Can you trust me?" he countered.

"I need to meditate on that," Winter chuckled.

"_L'alurl abbil zhah dosstan_, my dear." He smiled, quoting, "The best trusted friend is yourself. _Aluve'_Winter, and good luck."


	7. Towards Menzoberranzan

Chapter 7

Towards Menzoberranzan

"That old _shebali_." Winter muttered as you led her out of the city. "Didn't give me any definite answers."

You didn't reply about that, simply feeling nervous about the tailings. You had a very uneasy sensation, especially between your shoulder blades...knives flashing, stabbing down, the short period of nothing, then a shorter, sharp period of intense _pain_...

"They will not attack us," Winter murmured. "Or if they do, probably not you. I believe it is the time to suddenly disappear..."

Judging by the noise level, the two of you were re-entering the market zone. The commercial district, though bustling, with creatures hurrying about their businesses, seemed positively sedate by comparison...

Winter chose the thickest crowd and squeezed in, and you had to do your best to follow, hoping that no one would tread on your paws. You turned your head back once, and saw what looked like drow feet trying to near the two of you, but Winter skillfully weaved in then out of the crowd, somehow (nearly upsetting a _raekio_ seller, the brightly colored fungus in his basket barely escaping becoming part of the unidentifiable messes on the cobbles) emerging out precisely where she wanted – where your gift had pointed you.

You took the lead again, loping forward quickly, and she ran smoothly beside you, the two of you trying to melt into the Underdark before the followers tried anything.

Sounds easy? Try it in a place where your very footprints act as beacons.

Once Winter thought it safe to slow down, she began to explain. "_Tagnik'zur_ is Sanctuary's representative in Mekkane. No, not all the cities have representatives...it just happens that Mekkane's...diversity? Yes, that would be a good word – is amusing to the World-Makers. What does he do? He keeps track of everything he can lay his clawed hands on – the price of adamantite in the drow city of Tyrybblyn, the current scandal in Llurth Dreier...mostly politics, however. He keeps track of the few billion threads that make up the weave of the Underdark."

"Mekkane is under his care...what can he do? Well, there are all sorts of the normal stories sentient creatures come up with when they have too much spare time...no one really knows...just as no one really wants to know why he's half-dragon. Morikan knows no dragon would willingly...my dear Kel, that sort of imagination is most unhealthy for one of your age."

"As to what does he do...well, he ensures a relative stability of a city whose very structure is of chaos. Occasionally he pulls a few threads of the weave, keeping Mekkane spinning on the thin balancing rope above civil war."

You couldn't think of an answer for that, just tried to keep the reek from the rothe waste of many caravan's passage out of your nostrils, and not really succeeding.

Finally the two of you veered off the main route and into a less-used one – too uneven for wheeled vehicles. You wondered wryly whether you should have specified 'safe' for your gift – the atmosphere seemed to be getting warmer and warmer, which was not a good sign. Reptiles liked warm conditions, and most of the reptiles in the Underdark were of considerable size.

"Too late for that now," Winter said neutrally. 

The air began to smell different, a small tinge of sulphur, and some earthy, papery scent. As the tunnel began to widen and dip downwards, the air became more and more balmy, until you were panting, the wolf way of sweating, and Winter was muttering about the heat conductivity of metal chain mail.

Soil became dark, nearly black, under your paws, and nearly overgrown with fungus and mushrooms, even on the walls, a most...unnerving sight. What was with this soil, anyway?

The tunnel led to a large cavern, slightly dome-shaped, that seemed to be larger than all of Mekkane. There were small fissures in the carpet of fungus and mushrooms that occasionally emitted some weak jet of that slightly sulphurous gas. Southwest-wards from the center of the cavern was a mound, also overgrown.

"I do believe we are in what was a laccolith," Winter said in mild surprise.

Laccolith?

"A large fracture where magma from under the earth gathered. This place must be rather old for it to have weathered to this state."

Er...

"Just take it that this is natural and nothing to be afraid of...oh, sh..."

Winter yanked you back just as a pair of large jaws longer than your current form surged out of the soil, snapping impotently, before whatever it was sank back in. In the caved-in hole you caught sight of a scaly tail snaking away.

"Tunnels within tunnels," Winter said in mild surprise. You sat down abruptly on the ground, feeling too stunned to be frightened.

What the...

"_Ragthar_, subspecies of crocodile," Winter said with interest. "Wonderful. How are we going to cross without invoking Irr'liancrea? Rykvaz probably wouldn't listen to a call for help, unlike Graywolf..."

The two of you retreated to more solid rock, and discussed ideas, ideas which got more and more desultory and incredible, until finally you tugged at Winter's trousers – the two of you would have to circle around the cavern and hope that you would join back to Menzoberranzan.

Winter cursed under her breath at the delay as the two of you retraced your steps, and your gift led you down another route.

As the two of you walked, you thought about Winter's 'magic'. How did it work?

You were expecting her to be 'listening in', and she did answer. "By telling it stories. Magic is...in my case, a sentient entity. It trades stories – soothed into giving you the aid you specify. Hence most spells of Loremaster class that are of power take ages to cast – some take months – but Loremaster Adept spells are the best."

What sort of stories?

"The more lurid and sordid, the better," Winter chuckled. "I think magic is perverse. The story of Carmen by a certain composer known as Bizet on one of the joint Morikan-Belnarath worlds gives a rather potent firewall spell. What is it about? A girl who takes a lover, then another lover, then gets killed by the first lover, and both lovers end up killing each other, I think. I have not used that spell for years. Yes, those sort of stories. And each story is usually set to do something – magic never tires of the same story, I think."

It sounded like a lot of work and sore throat.

"It doesn't have to be continuous," Winter shrugged. "I can pull the casting of the firewall spell, for example, for several days with a few hours each day, or simply complete it in one sitting. How we do that is a little complicated."

Are there different amounts of strength one could have in this, or did it depend on memory space?

"Both," Winter navigated a fissure precariously, "A Talent can tell a story in a word or a gesture, for some reason. They aren't common. There is only one natural Talent living, and I'm afraid he is a little bonkers and about to be terminated on another world. Unnatural Talents? If their magic is boosted by...implements. Like a Nexus bond, of course, though that is even rarer. Apparently there's one in progress now which is exciting quite a bit of Sanctuary."

Nexus bond? Implements, like Irr'liancrea?

"Irr'liancrea can't boost my Loremaster power," Winter grinned, "It does have limits, you know. Nexus bond is a special link between two...beings...it is even more complicated, but I suppose we have a lot of time."

She explained that as the two of you picked your way through the tunnels, her voice sure and commanding, a natural public speaker. Then she spoke of 'Sanctuary' again, in wistful tones, of its beauty and its differences, and you listened to a world which seemed so far away and yet brought to life by all the anecdotes and quips...

And you wondered suddenly if this 'Loremaster' magic only worked in the 'Sanctuary' tongue, or had Winter been spellcasting all the while as she had been talking?

"Very good, Kel," Winter smiled. "I only thought of that yesterday. Yes, it works, but more slowly. Not wasting words, hmm?"

What was she doing?

"Weaving a very strong set of shields on Irr'liancrea," Winter explained, "Setting up a radar system for warning of living creatures coming our way. Seeing if anyone is following or scrying us. Little projects, nothing major."

And...?

"No creatures large enough or many enough to pose threat for miles – the Underdark is pretty boring sometimes, hmm? Drizzt must have been rather unlucky to have thought it full of evil and toothy creatures out to have his blood at every step. Thing is, there are certain conditions for life, and those conditions are only around at certain places in the Underdark, not everywhere. Nearly like forests in that way."

"What are forests? Large numbers of trees – plants taller than houses sometimes – that are together in one spot. Usually large amounts of life that keep out of the way of noisy and nosy humanoids. Some think it's totally dangerous, like the Underdark, and unknown, hence by default, evil. Silly, is it not?"

"Following us? No one. Keeping track of us, yes, there's a minor spell I can break easily, but that will tell them something is wrong with us. Listening in on us, no. They can't really be bothered – I'm not of much importance to them...yet." Winter kicked a pebble.

You didn't like the sound of 'yet'.

"Too bad, Kel." Winter chuckled, throaty and rich.

What would be the excuse for entering Menzoberranzan?

"Passing through...oh, maybe to Sshamath? Assassinate a few mages. Who knows. They probably wouldn't believe whatever I say, anyway. _Vel'Xundussa Magthere's_ motto is _Zhaunil dal Waerr'ess_, after all – Knowledge from Deceit. Playing with words should be fun."

What was her strategy? Infiltrating Bregan D'aerthe was probably easier said than done, and by your knowledge of mercenary groups, most soldiers never got to see their commander in their lifetimes, or at least, not close up. So how was she supposed to observe Crenshinibon?

"So long as I am close enough to build up a certain spell, I don't even need to see him," Winter said dryly. "In fact, I just wish to get close enough – about two hundred metres – body lengths – to set a few parts of it. However, since I have to be in the area for a large part of the time, having some sort of purpose would be nice. I will not join a House, and I will not work as _ssins d'Aerth_...and I cannot see myself being a shopkeeper in this guise. Hence."

Other groups?

"Bregan D'aerthe has rooted them all out," Winter smiled. "Join them, or die. Not much of a choice."

Teach somewhere?

"Talk about calling attention. Besides, the only place where I could possibly teach would be at Sorcere or Melee-Magthere, and I am not a graduate of either. In Menzoberranzan, their Sorcere still is _Ulfaerz'un'arr_...a female Arch-Seeress, and not based on the most talented. How amusing. Only their Melee-Magthere has a male master, the _Ul'Saruk_. Menzoberranzan is a Dark-Ages class city – the only constant is chaos. And I thought Irinelaeran was bad."

Where would she take rooms?

"Several suggestions from Qarrin and Mikasa...but I think I shall use _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_ property. Even if it is not luxurious – hence not noticeable in Menzoberranzan, but it will be safe. Guild members protect members, most of the time."

Is not _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_ a competitor of Bregan D'aerthe?

"We're currently stronger, so we ignore each other's existence – though we try to poach from each other. There are quite a few Bregan D'aerthe mercenaries who are _Veldriss_ or _Veldruk_...and vice versa of course."

Winter continued to talk through the long walk, the two of you plodding on.

You eventually lost count of the number of sleeps, your days passed in tedium allayed barely by Winter's dialogue. Then you began to notice something – little wisps of transparent _things_, irregular and fleeting in sighting.

They became slightly more frequent as the two of you continued onwards, until finally you realized that they seemed to resemble creatures – drow, _duergar_, _svirfneblin_...children, female, male, adult...

You asked this of Winter.

"Oh? Ah yes, _nigouar_ can see ghosts."

Ghosts!

"Discontented spirits. These are harmless...you can always tell when one is nearing a drow city by the sudden increase in wraiths. It is rather sad, really...they're scaring you? Oh very well, I'd tell them to leave us be."

Winter spoke a jumbled, erratic and highly unlikely story of a merchant and a sock, in drow, and then the spirits abruptly faded away.

In drow?

"Practicing," Winter said sheepishly. "I am experimenting to see if 'story-telling' can be brought in normal speech."

You still felt much relieved. Some of the expressions on the ghosts would haunt you for years to come, and you felt ridiculously happier that you could not see them now.

**

The harassed-looking guards at the gates the two of you approached let both of you pass with a few cursory words and returned to the unruly knot of duergar caravans.

Did Winter want to find Bregan D'aerthe now?

"We wait for them to find us," Winter said quietly. There were less drow, theoretically, in Menzoberranzan than in Irinelaeran, but here it seemed like more. "We are in a commercial area. Now, I need you to find this person..."

An image of a drow leapt into your mind, female, wrinkled, and with the remnants of a once proud beauty. You paused a little, then loped confidently forward into an alley, Winter following you. After a few twists and a long walk the two of you reached the back door of an unassuming house – Winter examined what appeared to be a crack on one filthy wall microscopically before knocking politely.

The door opened quickly, to show that selfsame female. This case, the intelligence in her eyes in the projected image was replaced by dull stupidity. She stared at the two of you.

"_L'alurl gol zhah elghinyrr gol_," Winter said softly, with a rather manic twitch to her lips – holding back laughter. 

The best goblin is a dead goblin?

The female opened the door wider, and Winter stepped in – you followed. She closed the door, then waited.

Winter rubbed her face with both hands, and the disguise of the male disappeared when she removed them. She grinned at the other's snicker to see the face of a handsome male replaced by a pretty female one.

"Very imaginative," the female's dull eyes disappeared, replaced by definite intelligence, and she produced a book from beneath the dirty robes. "Name?"

"Winter. Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest."

She flicked open the book to a page, then held it out. Winter pressed her thumb onto a square for a few blinks, then removed it. The female peered at the heat mark left, then lit a candle and compared it to something in the book. Then she got a brush from the table in the cluttered room and dusted the mark, then compared it again.

"Correct," she shut the book and replaced it under her robes. "What help do you need?"

"Rooms for a while," Winter grinned. "Oh. And food, a bath..."

"One at a time, _noamuth velg'larn_," the female laughed. "My name is L'hurdre. And your friend here is...?"

"Kel," Winter nodded. "Actually drow. Transformed. Thank you very much, L'hurdre. Now, for that bath..."

"This way."

Winter emerged from the bath place wearing her blue robes and combing her hair. The interior of what was affectionately known as _Olist El'lar_, the stealth house, was considerably cleaner and more comfortable than the outside, and you were already snuggling onto one of the beds in the rooms that you had been provided with.

She grinned at you. The room was not large – two beds, desk, wardrobe, chest at the foot of each bed for belongings, lantern, no window, no carpet, but the beds were comfortable and the room gave a general feeling of security. You burrowed deeper into the sheets, having submitted to a washing courtesy of L'hurdre and now being clean.

"A short while before I have to wear that armor again," Winter sighed. "I hate it already."

You made an unsympathetic snuffle, and closed your eyes in contentment. 

**

When you woke up some time later Winter was gone, so you considered your options. Should you wait for her to return, or should you go to look for her?

Your patience ran out after an interminable amount of time where you counted the cracks on the ceiling, then the folds on the bed, then finally let out a small sniff of annoyance and leaped off the bed, feeling absurdly proud of the graceful move.

Nudging the door open, you padded out of the house. L'hurde, mending a dress on a comfortable chair at the foot of the rickety old stairs, nodded at you. "She is wandering around their market. You would like to be careful here, Kel. Elves here do not like _nigouar_ very much." 

You nodded at her, then headed out of the door and focused on Winter. She was...not nearby, to your annoyance, so you set off at an easy lope in her general direction. Feeling dizzy from the nap, you barely avoided the stinking heaps of some unknown substance, and felt relieved as you came out into a cleaner street. You saw what L'hurde meant immediately – a drow elf, commoner, by the sight of her, shrieked when she saw you. Hurriedly you turned tail and decided to find a less open way to find Winter.

Maybe you did need a collar. Collared _nigouar_ would be classed as 'pets'...hence less probable to be bothered.

You managed to find the market eventually – after several mishaps with a group of soldiers, another female, and a few rothe. There were too many humanoids in it – and you regretting walking so openly into the place – some of them fled, some backed off and shouted, and a few drow soldiers took a few steps forward.

You bared your teeth hopefully, trying to scare them off. They took one collective step back, then drew their weapons. You prepared yourself to turn and run, claws digging into the cobble stones...

A hand landed on your head, and you started, then relaxed when you noted the familiar scent of Winter. She ruffled your...fur affectionately, ignoring the astonished onlookers. "_Shebali, vel'klar inbal dos tlus_?"

Where have you been? You automatically attempted to say 'Looking for you', but it came out as a series of rather savage snarls. The crowd buzzed uncertainly.

Winter produced a collar from her satchel – a rather plain, soft black leather one with a pendant in the form of a plain adamantite coin attached to it. She attached it rather loosely to your neck, said rather loudly, "That is better," then in a softer voice, "That may have called more attention to me than in the last half an hour. Thank you, Kel..." 

You let out a rather wolfish 'chuckle', and padded after her as she started off back into the market. After some hesitation, the crowd got back to their normal distance, though they gave the two of you a berth.

Winter was inspecting a stall, which sold sharp implements with interest. She picked up a large flat ring of metal with sharp outer edges curiously, running one finger over the carving. You caught something she said under her breath about thinking these sort of weapons only existed in 'Xena'. Finally she paid for it, hooked it onto her belt, then winked briefly at you.

You blinked, then looked around more carefully – ah, two soldiers three stalls down trying their casual best to look inconspicuous. You shook your head in resignation at Winter, who chuckled, nodded imperiously at the frowning shopkeeper then swept off, intensely amused.


	8. Miscellaneous

Chapter 8

Miscellaneous

Finally Winter stopped her rather aimless wandering and stepped into one of the poorer regions of the city – where the housing materials were not even made of stone, but what materials could be scavenged from the city. Gaunt commoners watched the two of you pass with wide eyes, fearful eyes, then returned to their businesses hurriedly. You shuddered inside at the blank hopelessness in every single move of theirs, and kept closer to Winter.

Walking zombies...

"Yes, rather sad," Winter murmured, sounding annoyingly uncaring, "But our business is not here. Not yet." After that rather cryptic comment she continued to walk quickly, and you did your best to follow. Then she just as abruptly ducked into a shack made of cloth held up precariously by rusty metal rods, and you went in after her...

The shack was totally empty except for a white chalked circle on the ground. It stank, that makeshift, tiny room, of rust, rotting cloth and something which had been burnt. Winter peered at it, then beckoned, and the both of you stepped into it. 

Nothing happened.

Winter muttered something obscene under her breath which you had heard Petriarch say before during that time when three drunk customers had started a large fight in the main room, then something else, which took a bit of time which you spent shifting your weight from paw to paw in agitation. Concentrating on your new senses, you could nearly 'see' the two soldiers which had been following the two of you outside. By their rather uncertain movements, you could deduce that they were...puzzled. Jerky, gesticulating, impatient...in the infrared the bits around their heads and heart were more pronounced.

Then everything seemed to blur, everything outside the circle, like some wet painting smudged by a sponge...a feeling of dizziness and displacement, and you shut your eyes tight... 

It cleared to show an octagonal chamber, littered by what you could broadly call junk – magical-looking junk. This place smelled old, musty, like an ancient storeroom – you sneezed at the dust and a black robed, masked figure shot up from where it had been reading in a nest of books, startled.

"Jalynfein, I presume?" Winter smiled, if rather viciously. You winced.

"What...who are you? How dare you enter my chambers!" The figure's hands began to radiate some sort of angry dark blue light.

"Oh, for pity's sake." Winter sighed theatrically. "Did not Morikan think to actually speak to you about me? Sometimes I wonder about Sanctuary – they ask me to do a 'favor' for them, then actually forget to inform the recipient..."

The blue light faded away slowly. Jalynfein seemed uncertain and apprehensive, an attitude which seemed to happen to people in a certain radius of Winter after a while – yourself included. "You are the representative of Asur?"

Winter watched him patiently, but you could tell she was enjoying this immensely.

"Can you...prove it?" Jalynfein was losing the initiative again.

Winter sighed, and showed him the covered side of her cloak. The white dragon blurred into view once, then blurred away again. "My name is Winter. Were you not supposed to expect me?"

"Winter? But I was told you would be...er. Female. I believe."

You could not see Winter's face, but Jalynfein started back once, then – unwillingly at first – began to laugh, laughter that had a slight edge of hysteria in it, that put your teeth on edge, showing that this drow had been under a lot of pent up pressure for so very long. 

"Precisely. This is not my primary objective – just that Sanctuary has a habit of saying 'Since it is along your way anyway, why not complete it?'. Which is why I am here."

"Who was the person who 'recommended' me?" Jalynfein asked suddenly, "I was..."

"Nominated by Zaknafein. He wishes you to know that the two of you are now 'even', whatever that means." Winter stepped fastidiously out of the circle, and you followed. More dust, but you managed to stop sneezing. Both of them ignored you. "Now hurry up. Do you agree or not? If you do not agree, then I will get out of here now."

"This is my only chance, it appears, to wriggle out of _her_ grasp," Jalynfein said, almost to himself. "I did once tell Zaknafein that only by 'serving' Lloth may one oppose her, but I have come to admit to myself that such a move is most difficult, especially for one in my position. You can count all the 'good' deeds I have done on the fingers of one hand...because I am afraid, inside, to oppose Lloth. Then you – your Asur – tell me that if I choose them over _her_, I may serve their desires. What do I know if they are...what if they are worse than Lloth?" A challenge. Winter returned his stare – eventually he looked away.

"Zaknafein serves Asur," Winter said evenly. "Do you think he would serve something worse than Lloth? Look, I am not here to convince you. If you are not happy with the proposition, then I will go now. I have an appointment elsewhere." She made as if to step back into the circle.

"Wait!" Jalynfein was clearly desperate, like a dying drow pulling at straws, "Wait...but how am I certain that you can reverse what _she_ did to me?"

Winter turned back, and she looked bored. "A demonstration may be in order." She retrieved a small iron marble from her satchel, then spoke to it in the language you did not understand. After a few blinks, the marble crumbled to dust which she dropped, then glanced up at Jalynfein.

"Remove your mask and touch your face, oh ye with no faith." She seemed to be making another private joke, because she smirked.

Jalynfein hesitated, then with an exclamation of defeat tugged away his gray mask, showing a face which was handsome in an ascetic sort of way. He tentatively touched his cheek with his fingers, then his eyes widened, and he ran his hand over his face in astonishment, then delight, then suspicion. Then he stared at Winter.

Winter bowed flamboyantly. "I can just as easily reverse it, of course..." That had a blatant threat in it.

"No! No...this is very good. Yes...but how..." Jalynfein seemed to give that topic up at the palpable amusement radiating from Winter. "Very well. How may I serve Asur?" His face showed distaste at the word 'serve' – this one was proud.

"They've explained that to you, I think. No? Then they soon will. Now, have you been observing Crenshinibon?"

"The crystal shard? Ah...no. It has not as yet moved against the city – not that we could ascertain...but Jarlaxle is clever." This last seemed to be an explanation.

"What? No widely publicized and amazingly devious coups? No sudden strange upsurges of supremacy and insane behavior in the Houses? How boring." Winter said whimsically. "Well, well. This has been a most interesting session, but I have to go now."

"You need no...help?" Jalynfein frowned.

"No – I am not the quester you are supposed to aid." Winter nodded. "Come, Kel."

"There is one thing," Jalynfein said just before Winter stepped back into the circle, suddenly very helpful.

"Yes?"

"There has been one circumstance of a power surge in the past month, but outside the city...about as long as the distance to Blingdenstone except in the west. It did not have any traces on it we could link to Crenshinibon...but I thought that you may find it to be of interest, since it was magical in nature and not, apparently, of this world."

"Really? Interesting. Well then, enjoy your new face."

You followed Winter into the circle, and the landscape blurred again, then returned to the shack. 

Winter began to laugh silently, and you watched her in mild curiosity. 

What had that all been about?

"Asur needed a representative in Menzoberranzan," Winter shrugged. "Hence, Jalynfein the so-called Spider Mage, chosen not only because of Zaknafein's nomination, but also because taking him would be tweaking Lloth's perfect nose. Jalynfein is desperate to be shielded from Lloth, and also desperate to get rid of his...changed face."

What had been his face before the...iron marble?

"You do not want to know. Seriously. Now, time to go outside and pick a fight..."

Winter pushed the flap aside and strode outside. You saw the two soldiers, which had been standing outside the shack. They blinked. Obviously the conversation in the shack had been shielded from them.

"Why have the two of you been following me?" Winter said in a voice which would have passed for male.

"Following..." one began, but Winter cut him off with a deep sigh.

Instead of saying something like 'Now I have to kill you,' or something about Bregan D'aerthe, Winter simply attacked, drawing both swords quickly and engaging the first. Startled, he barely drew his weapon – a long sword, before she deftly disarmed him by slicing open his hand then slapping away the blade, kicked him in the stomach, and rammed her elbow into the back of his neck. He dropped to the ground, barely conscious.

Winter, very sure of herself, did not even turn to see if she had dispatched him, but began to attack the other – her swords clashing with his, dodging his kick, then slamming one booted heel into the joint of the leg supporting his weight. He went down, but rolled away out of her sword strike, but when he got into a crouch her sword pointed at his throat.

"_Shebali_, sit on the other, would you?" Winter smiled.

You did so, standing on the back of the fallen one, letting out a menacing growl for good measure and he tensed, then kept very still.

"Now, any sudden movements, and my sword will have a very terminal association with your throat, while my friend over there will tear out the throat of _your_ friend. I would advise you to speak the truth to me, because I undergo involuntary muscle contractions when upset." Winter smiled, a terrible smile. Her sword tip touched his throat.

The soldier whom she pointed the sword at swallowed. 

"Hmph," Winter nodded, in satisfaction. "Now, I would not insult you by demanding where you came from. Bregan D'aerthe can be quite transparent..." the soldier blinked at the name. "Oh, come on. Did you expect me not to notice that I had been followed? And by who? Nevermind, do not reply to that. Now, tell me what Bregan D'aerthe wants of me? I believe I bled them of enough of their money the last time I fought their representative in the Sithyrr." 

"If you would be good enough to join," The soldier said slowly. "And what your business was in the city."

Winter let out a bark of laughter. "If I were to join it would be on my choice. My business in the city has been completed. As to whether I am good enough – if the two of you are typical of Bregan D'aerthe, then I would be ashamed to be part of it." 

The soldiers did not even flinch. "Bregan D'aerthe will be willing to pay you well."

"Money does not drive me," Winter said coldly.

The soldier frowned at this. "Nor power?" You had a feeling the two of them were reading off some unseen script.

"If I wanted power I would not be _noamuth velg'larn_." Winter said calmly. "However, since I have no contract on the both of you I cannot be bothered to waste any effort terminating your worthless lives. You can return to your masters and tell them to _vith'tir_. If your master is so interested in getting me to join, he can come and talk to me himself instead of sending the likes of you. _Shebali_?"

She turned her back on the soldier in contempt, stabbed the long sword of the first one an inch from his face, then walked away calmly. You growled once more for good measure, then padded after her.

You were beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea after all. What if Jarlaxle got seriously annoyed by her treatment of two of his soldiers? Bregan D'aerthe was too powerful now, here, in their home base...

"Hmm," Winter smiled at that, then began to whistle a catchy tune.

You shot a backward glance at the soldiers. They were (unsurprisingly) gone.

**

The two of you reached yet another of the gaps in the otherwise rather closely clumped together shacks. Strangely, there were children playing in this one – there were two pairs of rusted poles stuck in the ground, some distance away from and facing each other. Between them about a dozen drow children in scruffy clothes played with an even scruffier ball. 

You were mildly surprised at this rather idyllic scene in a 'Dark Ages' city.

"Children everywhere are like this, Kel..." Winter murmured. "Play is as much part of their lives."

The ball, kicked away, came straight by accident at Winter, who whirled, then began to dribble and roll the ball dexterously on her shoulders, down her back, then kicked up by one foot, keeping it in the air without the use of her hands, showing off. Finally she bounced it back to the wide-eyed children with a smile.

"What are you playing?" She asked politely.

The children stared at her, fear in their eyes, then one male one was pushed forward. "Ball," he said carefully.

"And kicking this...ball through those posts scores a point?" Winter asked.

"A pebble," the boy pointed at the 'sidelines', bolder since Winter was simply asking about a game. Four pebbles on one side, six on the other...

"Oh." Winter brightened up. "Mind if we join in?"

You blinked at this, but the children obviously were frightened of Winter, and nodded dumbly. You joined the four-pebble side, while Winter joined the other. The game started off tentatively at first, then the children appeared to accept the both of you as strangely shaped versions of their kind, and you thought again about trust as you pushed a ball away from Winter with your shoulder, to one of your 'teammates'...

Why was Winter doing this?

"I need to relax a little," Winter murmured at you as she passed. She snatched control of the ball, then attempted to weave past your team's defense, but the children had played the game for longer than she had, and she was quite unsuccessful. She laughed at this, and passed it to one of her own teammates. 

Infrared and dull light from the inferior – grade candles...weaving of small bodies, dirty teeth, tiny feet...

The ball came your way, and you managed to bump it to another of your team-mates, identified by the bit of ribbon tied to his wrist. The other team wore no ribbons. And you knew that drow society was not all killing and fear...and you wondered why most others, including drow themselves, thought it so...

Winter did not attempt to dominate the game or spoil the fun – she always let another score, but did not make any team feel disgruntled – in fact the children seemed to be enjoying their two new 'playmates'. Finally a truce was called, and some of them patted you, if a little tentatively, chattering to themselves.

Winter bowed to them. "Thank you, my friends...that was possibly the most fun I have had in weeks." She tossed a coin to each of them, and waved.

They waved back, collected their pebbles, and disappeared.

Winter watched them go, then, without turning around, said "You can come out now."

There was a pause, then a drow male stepped out from one of the makeshift huts, dressed in typical warrior costume, hands on the hilts of his two swords.

Winter turned around then, and sighed. "Now who the hell are you?"

"My name is Berg'inyon," the drow warrior bowed slightly. 

"Ah, Bregan D'aerthe again," Winter folded her arms on herself, but in a way that made the traditional gesture for peace seem sarcastic. "I told those two..."

"Jarlaxle is in Abburth," Berg'inyon stated.

Winter raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"The offer remains," Berg'inyon said calmly. "But first..."

He drew his swords and darted forward, then suddenly used his momentum to spin tightly, before he reached Winter, one hand stiffly behind him and one in front, such that he became a small whirl of slashing metal.

Winter's move was so quick you would have missed it had you not been watching her intently – she dropped to one knee when Berg'inyon was close enough, and struck away and out with one sword – Irr'liancrea - forcefully, actually managing to pick Berg'inyon up and throw him away several feet.

He got up to his feet instantly, pain crossing his face once, a visible dent in his chain mail, but held his swords firmly.

"Very unorthodox," Winter said mildly.

"Yours as well," Berg'inyon said politely, unwilling approval in his voice, then charged again, going into a tight spin earlier than before, though his swords now seemed to sweep around rather madly, a rather insane cocoon of steel. Winter cursed once, blocked a slash which came too close for your comfort, leaped backwards out of range, then darted further away.

Berg'inyon stopped to face her, then had to defend quickly as Winter lunged at him, viciously driving him in circles with savage skill, attacking his hands and arms rather than other vital spots, until you realized that Berg'inyon seemed to be weakening, the crippling blows numbing him.

Finally another forceful slash – Irr'liancrea's edge on Berg'inyon's sword edge – and to your absolute amazement, Berg'inyon's sword was sheared cleanly in half. Winter reversed her move, and slammed both swords into the other – Berg'inyon managed to keep hold of it, but it cracked all along the edge.

Winter leaped backwards again, and smiled at Berg'inyon's amazement.

"Not of wonder that you could defeat Tantras'nen in Mekkane," Berg'inyon said, finally, lowering his sword, calling for a truce.

"It will not be your sword that I break the next time," Winter said with frank honesty. Her sword-tips also lowered. "That was the famous Tantras'nen?"

"None other," Whatever response Berg'inyon had been hoping to get, he was disappointed. 

Winter shrugged irritatingly at him. "Not of wonder that you were defeated by the rogue known as Drizzt Do'Urden, if that is how you fight." she remarked, using his words on purpose.

Berg'inyon stared at her, puzzled and slightly annoyed. You began to feel a sense of deja vu.

"Hmm." Winter chuckled, a harsh sound now. "Killing you may be interesting, but quite useless. I would not mind engaging Rand'eran as well, if you wish. However, Jarlaxle may just need to get more captains in that case, because I am beginning to get irked."

"You could be a captain," Berg'inyon began, though from the expression on his face he probably disapproved of this measure. "You have the potential."

"You sound as if it is Bregan D'aerthe that chooses, not myself," Winter said coldly. "Which, I assure you, will not be the case." 

"Allow us a chance, then," Berg'inyon said calmly. "See if you like being inside Bregan D'aerthe. You may always leave if you wish."

"I _will_ always leave if I wish," Winter corrected.

"Are all other _noamuth velg'larn_ like this?" Berg'inyon muttered.

"The last I met one of mine was several decades ago," Winter shrugged. "Slightly insane fellow who liked playing with feathers. Bregan D'aerthe too, I believe. Who cares. Most of them would have killed you and gone off by now."

"Then why not you?" Berg'inyon challenged.

Winter sheathed her swords. "It is a long period between assignments. I believe I may condescend to 'try out' your organization."

Berg'inyon also sheathed his swords. "What is your name?"

"You may call me Velve," Winter shrugged. 

Blade?

"Appropriate," Berg'inyon watched her warily, giving no indication that he knew that she was more than he thought. "Accompany me to Bregan D'aerthe." It was not a question.

Winter nodded with supreme indifference.

A dimension door appeared, leading to a room where several drow sat at around a table. Berg'inyon stepped through, and you followed Winter, the static between the two places not uncomfortable.

The drow looked rather carefully at her, especially the one in rather plain priest-robes, who seemed to be in some sort of nervous quandary – his eyes kept flicking over to the rest of the group, then at Winter, then back again.

Another one in armor this time closed the dimension gate with a nod of his head. There were four in total sitting at the table, and one of them looked distinctly familiar – the drow at Sithyrr.

"Some explanation may be in order," Winter said mildly.


	9. Conversation

Chapter 9

Conversation

The discussion was mercifully brief. Winter spoke about what she was in the city for – a brilliant if totally untrue yarn, which no one looked as though they believed but everyone accepted for diplomatic sake. The four of them – mostly the three captains – Kimmuriel looked bored and Rai'gy, the wizard-priest, looked apprehensive – spoke about why Bregan D'aerthe was keen to recruit her, (him, they thought), and whether she knew of any other skilled fighters.

She dodged that question even though they clearly saw she did so, and then they spoke about what they would like her to do (some training, some missions, her preferred way of action), and then stated rather bluntly that Bregan D'aerthe did not trust her, and would watch her. Winter, unruffled, said that it was a mutual feeling, and then said that _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_ would still take precedence. Apparently that was fine. Both parties left the room, Winter given free move of Bregan D'aerthe.

All of them except the priest finally left the room, after several more rather fake pleasantries, then Rai'gy looked around, nervously.

"All right, Rai'gy, I put a layer shield on this place. Anyone listening to us would not remember our dialogue precisely except that it went around the lines of you not trusting me, which is, of course, exactly what they would expect to hear. You were as nervous as a newborn _maisar_ there. What did you want to say?" Winter raised an eyebrow.

"I knew you were Winter once I saw you fight Berg'inyon," Rai'gy finally said, his voice tense. "What the _hell_ are you doing here? And in that disguise?"

"And I knew you would know," Winter replied coolly. "_Honglath_! Calm down. Why I am here is none of your business. Did you tell anyone else?"

"_Nav_! Of course not..."

"I thought so," Winter looked smug, but you could tell that she was relieved. For some reason, she trusted this Rai'gy. "_Al thalrus_, _Quar'valsharuk-ilharn_. Did you miss me?"

Godfather? Then you remembered the way Winter had smiled when Mikaras had mentioned Rai'gy.

"Winter! Do not use that voice on me. The last I heard of you, you had disappeared from Irinelaeran and House Ra'Kest was claiming that they had killed you. What have you been doing?"

Winter chuckled and sat on the table. "The last you heard of me was from Mikaras, was it not?"

Rai'gy blinked. "Who?" he said cautiously.

"Come now, godfather, Mikaras is Bregan D'aerthe, is he not?"

It was your turn to blink at this. But this would explain why Mikaras seemed to know so much about Bregan D'aerthe so conveniently, why he knew the exact route to Menzoberranzan, why he was from Menzoberranzan but ended up so far away in a relatively unknown duergar city...

Rai'gy threw up his hands. "Yes! Yes, he is. I do not care if you know this any longer. Winter, what are you here for? Tell me!"

"It does not concern you," Winter repeated. You watched in interest as Rai'gy's face flushed hotter in the infrared, fury and frustration. 

"Winter, I have known you since you were an infant. You are here for the shard Crenshinibon, are you not?"

"No," Winter said. She held Rai'gy's eyes – he looked away. 

"Damn you!"

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Why so nervous, Rai'gy? Pretend you know nothing of me. The fact that my persona has some truth should make it easier."

"And just wash my hands of you?" Rai'gy glared. "I cannot do that! You are my _Quar'valsharuk-dalharin_! Winter, Bregan D'aerthe is not a toy. Jarlaxle is very dangerous."

"Tell me," Winter mused, tracing a pattern on the table. "Do you think that I would simply leave on your orders?"

Rai'gy opened his mouth, closed it again, then slumped in his chair. "No."

"There you are," Winter beamed brightly, gratingly so.

Rai'gy sighed. "Of all the...Lloth, I _hate_ you."

"No, you do not." Winter smirked. "I asked you. Why do you want me to leave?"

"Jarlaxle has no hold on me except that of gratitude," Rai'gy said, but by the tone of his voice this seemed like some predetermined speech that he was trying to use to convince himself. "I do not want to give him anything which he may use against me. Besides, I like you."

"What, me?" Winter grinned at Rai'gy's scowl. She had scored a small victory. Then she added breezily, "Jarlaxle is in Abburth, is he not? So you do not need to worry."

"Jarlaxle is not..." Rai'gy abruptly stopped, saw that he had taken the bait, then sighed deeply at Winter's smirk of triumph. "But you knew that." He said accusingly.

"Crenshinibon is in the city. I did not think he would leave without it." You were impressed – you had never seen anyone bluff with no cards before.

"He will be listening in on us, would he not?" Rai'gy looked around, nervous again.

"I shielded this place."

"Your magic does not compare to the shard's."

"Not my magic alone, no," Winter said enigmatically. 

"What are you using? When Kimmuriel tried to see your thoughts he struck some impenetrable barrier..."

"None of your business."

"You are here to kill Jarlaxle?" Rai'gy turned the topic abruptly, obviously seeing the futility of trying to pry more out of Winter.

"_Nav_," Winter smiled. "I think I would like to meet him."

"_Nav_!" Rai'gy nearly started from his chair, then sank back down. "It would be...suspicious. Yes...yes, that would be it. A newcomer like you. Not even the five of us see him often unless we are on a major project."

"I can wait," Winter shrugged. "Why did he not meet with me personally? I would think a _noamuth velg'larn_ would have called enough attention to myself."

"Who knows?" Rai'gy said. "He is as contrary as you are. I remember the second time I met you – in Ched Nasad, just after a sacrifice..."

"You with blood up to your elbows and all over your lovely robes. Charming."

Rai'gy ignored the sarcasm. "You were...ten years then. Little girl in pretty clothes with a pretty smile, like your two other slightly older sisters. Holding a doll. And you were the only one whom was not frightened, or fascinated like your mother – just curious. As I said, contrary."

"Cultural exchanges took the strangest forms," Winter drew another pattern. "I did not think you were frightening. And I told my mother so later. Fortunately she chose me as the exchange – even then I did not like Irinelaeran."

"A tiny girl wandering all over the place, with a talent at manipulation," Rai'gy said shortly, with a sudden smile. "Asking all sorts of questions. Embarrassing Irinelaeran."

"That was not relevant," Winter seemed brought back to the present by something. "My layered shield is beginning to wear off. There is only so much we can be pretending to talk about. Now, I shall leave dramatically, and we will not talk again. And Rai'gy? Stop worrying. I know what I am doing."

As the two of you left, you heard the muttered "That was what I was afraid of."

**

Bregan D'aerthe's headquarters was busy with mercenaries – and yet was neat and disciplined, like a fully functional, efficient machine. The two of you sauntered down what looked like a main corridor which was plain and unfurnished, leading to equally plain doors. Mercenaries who passed by gave the two of you a cursory glance and went on their way, chatting with each other. 

You remembered what Petriarch had said of Bregan D'aerthe – a band of mercenaries working together because they wanted to, not because they were forced to, with initiative and loyalty to the band itself and to no other. This was what made the band so formidable – not because it was nearly all male, not because of its widespread influence, but because the basic tenet of how it functioned was so different, and yet so powerful. If you are doing something which deep down you support and like, you work harder. Bregan D'aerthe offered males an opportunity to break out of all the stereotype bonds in Menzoberranzan.

And on top of it all was Jarlaxle, who somehow managed to keep everything going, dragging Bregan D'aerthe behind him to greater heights with cunning, determination, and a sheer will to survive and achieve. He had shown again and again that he was a survivor, an opportunist, and a talented tactician with a formidable mind, and was dedicated to the band, not to power or money...which was why all the mercenaries respected and believed in him. If he ordered them to kill themselves, they probably would.

"Frightening, isn't it?" Winter murmured. 

She bumped into a mercenary who was holding a large stack of paper and squinting at the words in the inadequate light. Paper went flying everywhere, someone chuckled, he fell down with a curse. Winter murmured apologies, then helped him pick up the paper.

He thanked her, then peered at her, mouth twitching into a manic grin. "Ah, the _noamuth velg'larn_?"

"_A_ wandering assassin, not the," Winter corrected, returning the grin. "Well met, _noamuth velg'larn _Sithag'er...carrying paper now, and not a matron's head?"

"Paper is less messy," Sithag'er grinned. Winter fell into place beside him. "I did not truly expect you to be the newcomer."

"This seems to be a day full of coincidences," Winter agreed innocently.

"However, I did suspect something, which was why I returned from Ithilaughgm. The Underdark is quite beautiful at this time."

Er?

"And did a passing winged _harguk_ tell you this?" Winter said, in all seriousness.

"No, t'was Vhaerun in mortal form with a pointy hat." Sithag'er smiled, an guile-less smile, miming something's stride. Whatever it was, Winter laughed, causing some passing mercenaries to stare briefly.

"I did not think the Masked God would enter the Underdark." Winter pointed out.

"He's been..._you know_ with Lloth again." Sithag'er nudged Winter and winked suggestively.

You could now see Winter's point about the other _noamuth velg'larn_ in Bregan D'aerthe being 'slightly insane', if Sithag'er was indeed the other one she had mentioned.

"Really. I thought they broke up," Winter played along.

"Oh no," Sithag'er said earnestly. "That is what they want everyone to see. Actually they're all fluff and pink below it."

"Is that good?" Winter asked.

"Oh of course. _Vel'duss zhaun alur taga lil quarual-sharess_?" Who knows better than the goddess?

Winter said something under her breath, and Sithag'er snickered.

Your eyes happened to fall on their hands – and you realized that the fingers twitched and curled and gestured, small gestures that would be natural and unnoticeable unless one was looking out for something like that.

"How do you find Bregan D'aerthe so far?" Sithag'er continued.

"You tell me," Winter countered.

"Too dark to read properly," Sithag'er said solemnly.

"Had a nice time in Ithilaughgm?" Winter inquired, changing the subject again.

"Oh, very nice. They just repainted their Dome."

"Again?"

"Yes, it gets tiresome. Pastel now I think. But a very pretty city." Sithag'er murmured, then his voice rose slightly again. "Very friendly."

"Friendly?" Winter raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, amazing how many people decided to come and play," Sithag'er said happily. "They were very insistent that I join in."

"Ah, and you let them live too?"

"Do not be silly." Sithag'er considered something. "I took the prize. Would you like to see it?"

"Sure," Winter shrugged. The three of you turned down a corridor, led by the strange drow.

Sithag'er, managing to balance paper in one hand, reached under his surcoat and pulled out a pair of metallic-looking gloves, dull black and unadorned, crude. He handed them to Winter, who ran fingers over them then sniffed the metal.

"Iron," she said, sounding surprised. "How?"

"_Faerbol_, magic made." Sithag'er said happily. "Try them on."

Winter slipped them on, then flexed her fingers. "No difference."

"Here," Sithag'er handed her the thick stack of paper. Winter took it automatically, then blinked.

"Weightless!"

"No," Sithag'er looked as though he would burst from glee. "Strength gauntlets – they give you strength. Clever, yes?"

Winter returned both paper and gauntlets. "So why are you not wearing them?"

"Because wearing them for too long would make me depended on the strength boost," Sithag'er said seriously, then his mood changed again. "Also, my hands say they like it not. I asked them. And my toes agree."

"Very diplomatic." Winter said with a straight face.

"One must be coordinated," Sithag'er beamed.

"What else did you do in Ithilaughgm?"

"Oh, I picked up a new dagger. They do very nice daggers there. That new blacksmith who is making a name for himself – I cannot remember his name – does fine work. You should go and see him. He has...strange hair."

"Strange hair?" Winter prompted.

"It is red." Sithag'er tapped a symbol on his surcoat. "This color."

"Dye." Winter brushed it off.

"No...he washed in a river and his hair turned red." Sithag'er corrected. "Because once tanar'ri washed their tails in there, so now the river turns some drow's hair red. All the sulphur, you see."

"I would think it would be yellow."

"Of course not. That is pure sulphur. This is _red_ sulphur."

"Oh, of course."

"The blacksmith does glasswork too. Here, see my sword..." Sithag'er drew it easily, juggled paper and weapon, then Winter took pity on him and relieved him of the blade.

She ran a finger on the blade – the grooves on it were filled with some sort of shiny, smooth substance – melted glass. Holding it up to the light, the carvings were hence picked up in forest green, blood red and dull gold colors – the melted glass had been delicately poured into them.

"How does he get the colors?" Winter helped Sithag'er sheathe the sword.

"Why, he washes the sand."

"In that river?"

"No, only for red."

"The green?"

"In the pool where Lloth once cut her fingernails into."

"She has to cut her fingernails?"

"If they are too long she tends to scratch herself."

"Instead of Vhaerun?" Winter sniggered. 

"Well...him too." Sithag'er admitted. "Have you heard of chocolate?"

Winter did not look surprised at this apparent non-sequitur. "_Xas_..."

What was chocolate?

"It is evil."

"Chocolate? Evil?" Winter raised a eyebrow. "Is it not that sweet substance from the surface?"

"Yes. Evil. _Verin_."

"In what insidious way is it so evil that even I cannot see it?"

"Ah! That is its secret power! You will never know until it is too late and you are under its influence, and you crave for it when you are pressured, sick or simply bored. Beware it. The worst kind of poison. And I have it from the best authority that it makes your teeth rot."

"Sithag'er, have you ever eaten _vrau_?"

"What is it?"

"If you think chocolate is _verin_, _vrau_ would be _ssussun_."

"_Vith'ussa_! Are you sure?"

"Yes...I may have a sample somewhere." Winter opened her satchel and sifted in it with one hand.

"You keep food in your bag?"

"Food that keeps."

"I keep...feathers in my bag."

"I know." Winter took out a small cloth-wrapped bundle which she handed to Sithag'er. "Not as good as the fresh one, but the dried one is still superior to chocolate."

You watched as Sithag'er slipped some paper from under the bundle into his clothing, then opened the bundle. The sweet, mouthwatering scent immediately floated down to you, and you were hard put to keep your mouth from watering.

Sithag'er balanced it on his stack of paper. "_Vith'ussa_! I see your point. As a elder member of _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_ I am honor bound to protect you from this evil influence. I will now keep this _vrau_." He ate a piece of it. "_A lil Quarval-sharess..._"

Winter snickered. "Out of this world, is it not?"

Sithag'er barely gave her a glance, though you could tell that he was suddenly very interested. "Have you been picking flowers again?"

"No, merely while they were in season."

What were flowers?

"Ah. Those...what do _rivvil_ call them? Roses."

"Roses have thorns, and looked like badly folded pieces of paper. Make another guess."

"Carnation?"

"Those shredded pieces of paper? They smell worse than roses."

"Foxglove. Pretty little things, though foxes hardly wear them, of course. Not fluffy enough."

"No, not that either."

"Morning's glory?"

"Wrong track."

"Sunflowers."

"What, that evil thing?"

"Orchids?"

"Never seen those before."

"Poppies?"

"Not those either. Give up?"

"No, this is amusing. Buttercups?"

"Your knowledge of flowers is greater than mine."

"Hyacinth?"

"Like I said."

You wondered if this was, in fact, some sort of secret negotiation or simply a private joke between them. 

"Ah. Passionflower."

"Very funny."

"Dandelions?"

"Warm."

"Yellow, small, chrysanthemum."

"Correct. Finally."

Sithag'er smiled happily. "All of them?"

"No, just one."

"Saw a few 'bees'?"

"Dragonfly, a white one."

"Amusing! You must tell me more one of these days...ah, but here I am." Sithag'er stopped outside a door, and when he turned around, he was very serious again, his 'insane' mask dropped. "Thank the goddess. I was not sure how long more I could keep up that continuous stream of rubbish. Winter? Jarlaxle is very dangerous. Watch your back." Unintentionally, he had repeated what Rai'gy mentioned earlier.

"_Nindyn vel'uss kyorl nind ratha thalra elghinn dal lil alust_." Winter quoted a famous proverb.

"_Elghinn zhan lil abban del jal bwael noamuth velg'larn_." Sithag'er replied, bowed slightly, then entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Winter smiled slightly, a smile with no humor in it. "_Abban xal tludoer ogglin_. Come, Shebali."

And you followed. 


	10. Random Killing

Chapter 10

Random Killing

The four-year association with Bregan D'aerthe proved to be fraught with surprise, excitement, tedium, danger and strangest of all – friendship. As Winter, in her male guise, inexorably danced up the 'social' ladder of the nearly all-male band, what Rai'gy once said four years ago came to mind – most often do not see Jarlaxle. Indeed, the two of you only saw him at sporadic intervals and at a distance away, a shape every bit as flamboyant and colorful as in descriptions, but Winter seemed untroubled. None of you even managed to see Crenshinibon, which seemed to be keeping a low profile.

You once worried that you would grow too used to your new body, and you were – if Winter changed you back, you probably would have to learn how to walk all over again. But that soon ceased to bother you as well.

Winter played her character for all it was worth – Velve, an arrogant _noamuth velg'larn_, reluctantly accepted the rules and regulations of Bregan D'aerthe, won many friends with his confidence, his sense of humor (if a bit morbid) and sardonic personality, and grew fiercely loyal to the mercenary band. He still worked alone with his _nigouar_ friend, and lived outside headquarters...

Sithag'er died in the third year, his skills not enough to save him from a explosion of some sort of new powder from skullport, right in front of him. Winter took over his place as the _velkyn velve*_, the unseen blade, but grieved, as did you – you liked the odd, sensitive drow who chose controlled madness as a mask against the outside.

This role did bring about certain...

Winter crept quietly through the corridor, you padded behind her, whining softly under your breath. What if there were traps? What if the two of you were caught?

You thought wildly of crackling lightning and exploding fireballs, then forced yourself to relax.

The mosaic under your paws, wrapped in some sort of insulating material, was beautiful, but you did not pay it the slightest attention. Your paws and mouth smelled and tasted of blood – you had stopped being fastidious about using your body to kill a long time ago.

Winter looked unconcerned, even when, at times, passing a door, one could hear loud explosions, or muffled curses, or suddenly see light streaking out from underneath the door. This was, after all, Sorcere, and apparently this sort of thing was common...

You winced at a snarl from the room next to you, and hurried on after Winter, who was peering at the numbers and nameplates on the doors and counting softly.

"_Szith, szithus, szithdra*_..."

Some things hadn't changed – Winter still had her satchel, even if it was now battered, slightly singed around the edges, and mended erratically with thread of the wrong color. Her armor was scarred and weatherbeaten but in good condition, cloak also tattered but lovingly mended. Boots with insulated soles so as not to leave infrared traces. A silver bracelet with tiny little gems embedded in it on one arm, just above her white gauntlet-gloves, and a wand, a red stick of crystal, under her belt.

"_Szithlyn, szithael, szithal*_...ah."

Winter peered at the doorknob, then nodded at you – you sniffed at it. Strangely, it was not a magic lock – Winter grinned as she retrieved your message, then carefully took out a velvet wrapped bundle from her satchel, unwrapping it slowly such that metal would not clink on metal, showing a set of picklocks.

She picked the lock easily, and quickly opened the door, shook her head in resignation, then began to murmur in a soothing voice. You shifted your weight nervously and patted the ground with one paw, then abruptly symbols traced in red showed up on the room floor, ceiling and walls – wards. Winter nodded happily, then murmured something else – the symbols, slowly, faded from red to pink to purple, then to a reassuring blue.

She slipped in, and closed the door after you.

The only occupant of the scrupulously neat room was asleep and snoring in the single bed...blissfully unaware.

Winter confidentally stepped forward, onto the first symbol – nothing happened. Without bothering to check if the other wards had been deactivated, she wandered over to the bed, softly, then clamped a piece of thick cloth onto the figure's face, dragged him onto the ground as he woke and attempted to struggle, then cut his throat efficiently with a dagger. She proceeded to slice and hack at the corpse, not haphazardly, but in a way which would make it look as though the victim had been savaged by some huge animal. 

You watched impassively, ready to help if something untoward happened, but Winter checked if he was still alive by the means of holding a small mirror over his mouth, seemed satisfied that he was dead, then stood up, cleaing the dagger and concealing it again.

Here was the more difficult part – she got a piece of chalk from the satchel, and cleared enough of a space on the ground to draw a a circle, with symbols at the side, referring now and then to a book she had brought along, then put the chalk back into the satchel and placed the book, open at the page with the symbols on it, carefully in reaching distance of the corpse's right hand.

She set another spell before the two of you left – a 'forget' spell in which all 'spiritual' traces of the two of you in the room would be erased. With a wand at her belt she then singed the ground on the circle and near the body, then the two of you quietly left the room and closed the door.

Now it would look as though the drow wizard had tried to summon some demon, got some of his symbols wrong, and then paid the general price for getting it wrong – savage death. Hardly any of Sorcere would bother to deduce any more from the obvious – and even if they did try to cast a 'remember' spell they would not see Winter or yourself.

Outside, Winter completed the soft incantation that would reactivate the wards, then the two of you crept back down the corridor. She closed the door, heavily insulated gloves would leave no traces, infrared or otherwise, on the knob.

Fluttering and a cold knot in your stomach, senses all on full alert, eyes straining to see in all directions, you concentrated on Winter's back and keeping the exact distance, stopping when she stopped, moving when she moved. Trusting in her.

Finally the two of you were out of Sorcere without any mishap, and sneaked to one of the lesser-used ways out. The two guardian spiders, deactivated, did not move as the two of you passed through them – only when the two of you were a safe distance away into the Underdark did Winter dispel the enchantment.

She let out a deep breath as the two of you began to circle back to the city. "That was not too hard..."

Except for the incident of the student wizard while trying to get in.

"As I said, not _too_ hard – besides, you did very well...students are hardly missed." Winter said dismissively. "Trei'den Maerret is now safely dead, and Ky'Alur can continue. I doubt we would be missed for a while, but in any case..."

She touched the bracelet, delicate fingers applying just the right amount of pressure on certain gems, then grinned at you – Bregan D'aerthe had been informed of Trei'den's untimely demise and could proceed to play along with House Maerret...politics which did not concern the both of you anymore.

"Free to walk slowly back." Winter voiced your thoughts, then began to wipe off the blood from her armor and clothes the best she could, before burning it up and kicking the ash away.

You wondered if the two of you should go and join in the attack on House Maerret.

"If we wander there and it is still on, why not?" Winter shrugged. "It is not as if we have many assignments today, and Sorcere was boring."

Boring?

"Compared to the last time."

You did not want to think about the last time, and kept silent. Winter chuckled, a rich sound that echoed down the empty, uniform grey-black of stone.

Silence shield?

Winter was quiet for a while, then nodded. "Enabled. What did you want to do?"

Was there any point to this? Four years in Bregan D'aerthe, following Bregan D'aerthe...

"Of course there is a point to this," Winter shrugged. 

But you have not even spoken to Jarlaxle, or seen the shard...

"_Jal wun bwael draeval*_."

Easy to say...

"Getting bored, Shebali?"

No...

"There you are."

Winter was actually having a good time?

"Of course. If I was bored with this I would not be bothered to stay here for so long. There were no parameters to the project." Winter began to whistle again, a melody that was popular in Menzoberranzan, and you subsided and returned to your thoughts – the whistling meant that the shield had been dispelled.

At least Rai'gy now seemed reconciled to Winter not being Winter, though he still seemed nervous when Winter came within a certain radius of Jarlaxle. This Winter found amusing if annoying, but did not encourage or try to stop it.

Winter liked Kimmuriel the psionist, though was wary around him – even if the drow male could not read her mind and yours, he was intelligent and may be able to deduce something that would give the two of you away. 

Tantras'nen was always polite, Berg'inyon was hardly ever around, and Rand'eran was solemn. The two of you did not see them often, in any case...Bregan D'aerthe was busy extending its influence. Whatever the crystal shard may have been doing, it could be lending power – many if not all soldiers of Bregan D'aerthe could now tap 'magical energy' from some other source for spells of medium difficulty. Winter declined this, of course, saying she had her own resources. Some of the soldiers which did not trust magic also took this option out, so nothing seemed untoward about her decision.

It all seemed so...pointless.

Four years ago Winter seemed eager to finish everything and return to wherever she had come from...

The two of you re-entered Menzoberranzan, and wandered through the streets, presumably heading for House Maerret.

**

The tall gates of House Maerret were missing, replaced by gently steaming lumps of metal in the large walled gap. Winter smiled happily and stepped over them, into the compound. 

"They started without us..."

House Maerret was not a large house, but the compound seemed to be a near-uniform dull green in the infrared – cooling blood and worse. The coppery scent filled your nose, and seemed to permeate your special vision – all the sharply angular textures. The two of you fastidiously picked your way through the area, into the main buildling where, from the sound of it, the fighting was still continuing. Several soldiers, the only other living things in the compound, nodded amiably at Winter, absently petted you, then went on their business of being 'look-outs'.

Winter began to whistle again as she wandered down into the first level of House Maerret, stepping over corpses in which rigor mortis had not even begun to set in. You tried to ignore the expressions of surprise and pain on their dead faces, and followed her the best you could.

The ground abruptly dipped into a stone ampitheatre with tiered seats. On one of the lower rows, Rand'eran was fighting with an unknown male drow, looking as unconcerned as ever even though he was clearly the less skilled of the two. 

Winter watched quietly as the male drow, rather desperate, bloody, and furious, pried open another gap in Rand'eran's defense and slashed open his leg, then sighed and called down, "Rand'eran, do you want me to take over?"

Rand'eran leaped up a tier, injured leg and all, and shrugged. "If you like."

"Might as well." Winter drew her swords, then charged down the tiers precariously. The male blinked, then was very nearly pushed off his footing by the force of the clash.

"Who is this?" Winter inquired of Rand'eran, whom had taken a seat several tiers up and was inspecting his wounds. You padded sedately down to sit beside him.

Rand'eran scratched you behind the ears, then watched mildly as Winter parried and dodged while gauging the new drow's skills, and he did the same to her. "Him? Oh yes. Tilarjen Maerret. Weapon master. Jarlaxle does not want him killed..."

"Now you tell me," Winter said dryly. Tilarjen raised an eyebrow. "Does Jarlaxle mind if he is damaged?"

Rand'eran chuckled. "I doubt it."

"Good." Winter viciously drove open Tilarjen's apparently perfect defense, kicked him in the chest, then nearly cut open his cheek – Tilarjen somehow managed to block the attack. Winter sprang back, grinned wolfishly, then attacked again.

Metal on metal, a ringing chime...

"Careful, Velve – Tilarjen has a...ah, there we are." Tilarjen managed to back out of the fight, a feat when fighting Winter, found balance, then leaped high into the air, slashing down with both swords, too far out of range to counter, and too close, too fast to block...

Winter leaped backwards, so the sword edges only skittered on her armor, adamantite on adamantite, screeching, but otherwise not hurting her. Tilarjen did not even wait to see if his attack had succeeded, but lunged forward, swords low, before she could recover.

Winter cursed and leaped again, this time to the side, up a tier, then charged down from there, using speed and momentum to slash in passing at his unprotected shoulder, stopped a tier down, then turned and swiped at his legs with one sword, the other one angling up at his side.

Tilargen blocked both blows, but made the mistake of hesitating. Winter did not – Irr'liancrea used one of Tilarjen's swords as a guide, to slice open his hand. He snarled, "_Ssussun pholor dos*_!" and leaped back up a tier.

"Had enough fun?" Winter asked politely.

"_Vith'dos_!" Tilarjen growled, then repeated his earlier move – high leap and a slash down. This time, Winter rolled under him to the higher tier, barely making it, and when he turned for his second move, her sword was there – she slapped his face to the side with the flat of the blade, a blatant insult, then stepped back up another tier.

Tilarjen flushed in the infrared, bright red of embarrassment and frustration, but kept his cool enough to dodge Winter's charge – even retaliating by slashing at her back as she went past him.

Winter cursed, blocked the blow, then fell at an odd angle, then had to roll off the tier and land hard on the bottom one as Tilarjen stabbed at her, and immediately block again as Tilarjen attacked.

"Velve, are you going to take all of this Narbondel cycle?" Rand'eran called.

"Almost done," Winter replied cheerfully. She shoved the male drow's swords to her left, easily, as she was stronger than Tilarjen, then grabbed his arm above the elbow and tugged...

Tilarjen tumbled down to the lower pier, rolled to his feet quickly, then froze – Irr'liancrea's tip rested on his neck.

"As I said so, almost done." Winter's back was to you, but you were sure that she smiled. "Did you wish to say something to him?"

Rand'eran wandered down to where she was, and you bounded down after him. "Ah yes. It is Jarlaxle's wish that you, Tilarjen Maerret, join Bregan D'aerthe. Very generous. Or Velve here will cut your throat, and you can join the rest of your family in the Abyss."

"Including Trei'den," Winter said helpfully.

"Ah, successful?"

"What did you think?" Winter challenged, feigning anger.

"I had every faith in you, Velve. Now, Tilarjen, what is your choice?"

You knew that it was not truly a choice at all. Tilarjen's shoulders slumped, and he sheathed his weapons. Winter nodded absently, then sheathed hers as well.

"And was it so very hard?" Rand'eran asked, not unkindly.

Tilarjen sighed. "Without House Maerret I am no more than a rogue." Not an answer, but a statement.

"Ah, secondboy, but if this had never happened, the most you could hope for was to hold your post as weapon master for two, three more centuries. In Bregan D'aerthe you can achieve." Rand'eran said ponderously. "Your new life awaits."

"Any other matters of importance?" Winter inquired politely, now that Tilarjen had capitulated.

"No...we have a free day. However, Jarlaxle has expressed a wish to see you when Narbondel reaches the brightest shade of green."

"Why?" Winter looked as calm as ever, but you knew that she was curious and more than a little excited.

Rand'eran shrugged. "I know not. Merely that you should see him in his office. The main one."

"With the grass?" Winter said in a mocking tone.

"Carpet," Rand'eran corrected severely. 

Tilarjen stared blankly at the two of them as they laughed, a genuine laugh, the most un-drow like sound echoing down the amphitheatre, incongrous amongst the dead strewn on the ground.

**

Winter took her time in _Olist El'lar_ cleaning up, then in the heavily shielded room wiping off her armor, then polishing it. Then she sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, the epitome of serenity as she combed her hair, comfortable robes draping her form.

You curled up in your bed, trying to sleep but failing miserably. Why did Jarlaxle suddenly want to see Winter?  
"Why?" Winter shrugged. "Who knows Jarlaxle. But it has been four years, and we have done much for Bregan D'aerthe. Probably just more questioning on the state of _Vel'Xundussa Magthere_. The alma mater is becoming more influential."

Rai'gy's warnings...

"Hmph. Just because he is three centuries my senior, Rai'gy thinks that he knows much better than me," Winter grinned. "I will see if Jarlaxle deserves his reputation. This may be a fine opportunity – after this I shall have to decide again whether it is worth it continuing under Bregan D'aerthe or simply reporting back to headquarters. Amusing as this venture has been, I would be better employed elsewhere."

You thought Winter was being overconfident, but held your peace and inspected the cloth of your bed instead. 

Winter chuckled. "Would you rather I brought an army in to see him, or simply refused? That would be even more suspicious."

Well...

"I know what I am doing." Winter said firmly, and would hear no more protests. She began to dress – armor, clothing, boots, then pulled on her gloves firmly. She strapped on both swords, wore the satchel, then sighed as she began the spell to create the impression that the make up was natural.

You wondered if she had injured anything during the fight with Tilarjen.

"A few bruises," Winter agreed. "Nothing serious, but Tilarjen was good...he will be valuable." She tied off the spell with her fingers, then nodded to you – and the two of you left the place as carefully as before, even if Bregan D'aerthe was probably already aware, a long time ago, that the two of you stayed here. As usual, diplomacy stated that Bregan D'aerthe would pretend not to know, and Winter would pretend not to know that she knew that they knew...it was complex.

The neighborhood was more or less familiar by now – same smells, same sights. Winter strolled down the streets, aiming occasional glances at Narbondel, and reached Bregan D'aerthe exactly as the colors began to intrude on green.

She was familiar with many of the mercenaries now – exchanging greetings, idle speculation, and rather crude jokes. The two of you made your way to the higher levels of the buildling, then with what seemed to you too short a while ended up outside a pair of double adamantite doors, more ornate than the normal. 

The guards greeted her and let the two of you in, closing the door behind you.

You could see what Winter meant by grass, and wondered how she had managed to lay her hands on that particular piece of information. Your paws sank into something soft that resembled 'grass' seen on a surface expedition two years ago, something that smelled of warmth and wool. The room was blurred at the corners – signs of an interposed dimension, making listening-in spells difficult if not impossible. Otherwise, the room was as flamboyant as its single owner – rare curiosities, several shelves of books, a couch at the side with the skin of some large carnivorous animal draped on it...everything in rather gaudy colors.

The famous Jarlaxle sat in a chair behind the large desk, writing on parchment by dim magelight, wide-brimmed hat with the diatryma feather covering his features, his cloak of shimmering colors neatly hung on a stand close by. His bracelets rattled and tinkled irritatingly on the table.

"Sir?" Winter said politely, in Velve's cultured-but-not-quite voice. "You wished to see me?"

Jarlaxle looked up lazily, and you saw he sported an eye patch over his right eye. "_Al thalrus*_, Velve. Or should I say, _Winter_?"

--

Language:

Velkyn velve: Unseen blade

Szith, szithus, szithdra: Ten, eleven, twelve

Szithlyn, szithael, szithal: Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen

Jal wun bwael draeval: All in good time

Ssussun pholor dos: Light take you (drow curse to drow)

Al thalrus: Well met


	11. Jarlaxle

Chapter 11

Jarlaxle

Winter did not even flinch, and you had your hands full remaining 'impassive', easy when one does not have very expressive features. Jarlaxle leaned back in his chair, a smile which was not a smile on his lips. 

Finally Winter said, "Sir?" in a voice which was convincingly uncomprehending.

"Do not try to deny it, _Winter_," Jarlaxle said neutrally, emphasis on the last word, but otherwise he did not seem...angry, or accusing, or even smug.

"Sir? My name is _Velve_."

Jarlaxle stared at her. "Surely you recognize the futility of continuing this charade."

"Charade, sir?" Winter looked puzzled, and slightly annoyed – exactly what would have been if Velve had been a 'real' drow accused of something he had not committed.

Jarlaxle frowned, but she held his gaze. "You are aware that Mikaras is of Bregan D'aerthe."

"Yes sir." Winter said evenly. "I read the rolls before. Sir." Still uncomprehending, but holding back a demand for clarification due to deference.

"He informed me of a powerful female drow approaching Menzoberranzan, on business with a certain artifact known as Crenshinibon." Jarlaxle continued, impersonally, as if reading out a note. "We had reason to believe that this drow would insinuate Bregan D'aerthe as a recruit, through one of the ways in the city Mekkane...with some calculation, the number of recruits we suspected were narrowed down."

"_Female_, sir," Winter said mildly.

"Illusion is not so great a trick," Jarlaxle replied with the ease of someone whom had tried out several angles of this conversation in his mind and was ready for any question. However, did you detect that the mercenary was now not so sure now of himself?

"Illusion, sir?" Winter raised an eyebrow, polite disbelief.

"That and the fact that this Winter had a child known as Kel following her. And though a child-turned-_nigouar_ seemed unlikely at first – she may have sent the child back to Irinelaeran – it soon was obvious that it had, happened." Those eyes swept down to you, and you tried your best to look like what you were supposed to be – animal, not sentient. You bared your teeth at him.

"Shebali? A _drow_ child?" Sarcasm and disbelief, and an underlying question as to whether Jarlaxle had a stable mental state.

Jarlaxle ignored this, and annoyingly, he was not even getting angry. He seemed as though he..._expected_ this to happen. How Winter would react. And Winter seemed too calm – did she think this could have happened as well? Then why were they continuing to banter words?

"The recruit 'Velve' was also somehow intensely shielded from both magical and mental scrying," he shrugged. "Not even the concerted power of two of the greatest magical talents Bregan D'aerthe had could penetrate the shield, though I have reason to suspect one of those talents was not doing his best, given his history with you."

"Spying on me?" Winter did not make that sound like a question, merely and amusing fact. She did not ask about the 'history' bit, probably attempting to make Jarlaxle forget about it, shielding Rai'gy with her action, if Rai'gy it was whom Jarlaxle suspected. "Shielding artifacts are common."

"Not so common as Irr'liancrea, I would believe," Jarlaxle watched Winter closely, but she did not flinch, no tightening of the jaw, or clenching of the fingers, to give away any indication of who she really was.

"Common as what, sir?" she asked, innocently.

"Not even Crenshinibon could break your shields," Jarlaxle said, unwittingly, or purposely letting out the fact that Crenshinibon was _not_ more powerful than Irr'liancrea in a direct conflict. "No 'common' artifact has that much power."

"Perhaps you were mistaken, sir," Winter said smoothly. "Concerted power focused on one function is greater than a large power focused on many. Can you tell me what this Winter looks like, sir? To dispel any...possible...misconceptions about my identity? With all respect."

Oh, very clever.

The sides of Jarlaxle's mouth twitched, as if he also understood the joke. Casually, he put both feet on the table and leaned back in his chair comfortably. "From all reports, blue eyes."

"Mine are..."

"Illusion." He interrupted.

"If you would think so, sir," Winter said in a 'humor-the-fellow', patronizing voice, which was bound to irritate, but which did not appear to affect Jarlaxle – he continued, unconcerned.

"Blue robes, but armor is easy to obtain."

"That is true, sir..."

"And even if the idea of a female dressing up as a male is unusual, it is not...totally unique."

"_Female_, sir?" Winter pointed out gently. 

You were beginning to relax. Winter could take care of everything. In this light Jarlaxle's accusation seemed groundless and insane. Even he should be able to see that. Everything would be all right, would it not?

However, what Jarlaxle did next was totally unexpected, for the both of you. 

"Take off your clothes."

"Sir?" Winter blinked, true surprise in her voice. She obviously had not thought of this outcome...and you prepared yourself to attack or run. 

"Now, sir?"

This would, at best, prove to be embarrassing. Although Winter bound her...assets well enough such that she would be more like a male, illusion may not extend to...or did she truly create illusion to show...

Your mind raced, but the most glaring statement, in capital letters and underlined in red, was 'No Escape'.

"You heard me." Jarlaxle was definitely enjoying this – he smiled slightly, triumphant.

Winter shrugged, if a little helplessly. A subordinate obeying rather insane orders from a commanding officer. "Very well, sir."

What!?

It was what you would have expected her to do if she had attempted to continue her act, but would she truly...? Why would she...

Winter removed her cloak, jerky movements showing that she – as Velve - was humoring Jarlaxle, but feeling annoyed at this and hoping to get it over as quickly as possible. It fell to the floor in accusing folds, and you sat down on your rump in shock at what she was doing. A slip – you glanced covertly at Jarlaxle, and realized he was not paying attention to you at all.

Jarlaxle was staring – half stark disbelief, half sly expectation, and you really wanted to _bite_ him. Preferably in a vital spot, causing him a lot of pain... 

Chain mail, pulled over her head, dumped on the ground with a muffled chinking sound due to the thick carpet, to show a thin gray undershirt, smelling of rust and metal and oil, stained with what may be dried blood. Jarlaxle did not move to stop her, even seemed to stop breathing, so still he was, so Winter murmured something rude under her breath, and took it off as well, fingers navigating the flat buttons with businesslike efficiency. 

You had enough self control not to let out a whine of surprise. Winter _had _created an illusion – to match the persona of Velve. Scars from blades and magic, some old and nearly healed, some rather new, marring a lean, muscled body which was very obviously male... 

Just like her to ensure that the illusion extended to the unseen parts of herself. She could not have created the illusion in the short time of taking off her clothes...or could she? No, you did not hear her say anything, and this close to Crenshinibon, she would not use Irr'liancrea...

She raised an eyebrow at Jarlaxle, unruffled under pressure. Nearly impossibly so.

For a moment you wondered if Winter was the reality or Velve the reality...was this 'Velve' then, the real thing? A real male persona instead of an illusion? Or was Winter truly...then you shook yourself forcefully, mentally. _Trust in her_.

Jarlaxle looked seriously nonplussed, the expression on his face incredibly comical and out of place.

"Do I continue, sir?" Winter said dryly, hands on her belt.

"How..." The mercenary leader was out of his chair and striding towards the two of you in an uncomfortably short time, anklets and necklaces clashing and tinkling together. You automatically barred his way with a menacing growl.

"Down, Shebali!" Winter commanded immediately, and you unwillingly complied, sinking to the carpet, resisting the urge to savage him. To show your displeasure, and to keep in the role of an _abbil-nigouar_, you kept up a low and continuous growl, lip curling up slightly to show teeth.

Jarlaxle appeared to have erased you from his immediate universe – he stepped over you, then walked around Winter, anklets and bracelets and miscellaneous jewelry continuing to clash and scrape gratingly against each other, walking slowly, disbelieving, and she continued to radiate the air of deepening puzzlement and the beginnings of outrage, like Velve would have.

A master actress, and a master spellcaster. You felt awe, but still trepidation – Sithag'er and Rai'gy had both termed Jarlaxle 'dangerous', and you were sure that he was not finished with Winter yet.

Instead of being satisfied like most would be, and mutter some apology, Jarlaxle walked – no, stalked the full circle to return to facing Winter, tight grace, but angry, confused. He was taller than she was, and he managed to look her up and down with a casualness that bordered on insult.

"Sir?" Winter inquired, her voice flat now. If inflection were to become reality, the temperature around her would have lowered several degrees.

Jarlaxle made as if to turn away in disgust, then suddenly his right hand shot forward, a striking snake. Winter's eyes widened, shock, and there was a blur of movement, a crash of jewelry against jewelry, and the scene seemed to freeze – Winter firmly grasping Jarlaxle's wrist with her right hand, his hand a few inches before her chest.

Long, aristocratic fingers pointing at her, then relaxing, sagging down, curling slightly as if preparing for a fisted attack, but he made no other move, which would have been lucky for him – if he had tried something else you would have attempted to kill him. 

"Sir?" A threat now, in her voice. And yet no hint of the apprehension she must feel – as illusion's greatest weakness, no matter how perfect it was or how beautifully one acted, was that it could not withstand touch.

Stalemate, as neither would back down, two strong wills clashing together, testing each other. For a long, agonizing moment the two of them stared at each other, as if frozen into living, grotesque sculptures, with you yourself half-rising, half still lying on the ground.

"Not touch?" Jarlaxle said then, mockingly, breaking the silence, all disbelief gone now, his fingers going deceptively limp.

Winter let out a deep, shuddering sigh, though she still seemed calm and collected. Outmaneuvered for once, you could see her resolve at what Jarlaxle termed her charade crumbling, though to show a new wall of determination. "I could break your wrist."

"You can try." Jarlaxle shook the arm she held slightly – his bracelets jingled together, some sliding on top of and under each other. Winter watched them suspiciously, seemed to realize something, and sighed again.

"Damn you."

Jarlaxle smirked.

Winter shoved him roughly away and picked up her undershirt. Surprisingly, he did not react – merely watched her quietly and with a certain degree of amusement as she pointedly buttoned it up. 

"There is not much point in illusion now, is there?" he asked, when she reached for her armor. He folded his arms, leaned his weight on his right leg, and continued to watch her with unnerving intensity.

"I doubt it matters much to you what I look like," Winter said innocently, pulling on the chain mail and shifting her shoulders to accommodate the additional weight.

Jarlaxle looked annoyed for a moment, probably still partially thinking of Winter as Velve and hence subordinate, thus not used to tolerating blatant disrespect from such, before his face abruptly became bland again. 

Winter turned her back on him as she fixed the cloak back on her shoulders, probably even amused by his irritation, then she turned back in her true self, and you wondered, inconsequentially, where the make up had gone. Ice blue eyes sparkled at the startled, then grudging admiration on his face.

One word from this drow and the two of you could be killed, and she was enjoying herself because Jarlaxle found her attractive? Sometimes you thought you would never understand Winter.

"I take it Mikaras failed to mention the more salient points of how I look like," Winter said whimsically.

"_Mzilst ssin'urn*_, but very vain," Jarlaxle said bluntly, though you did not like the new speculation with which he watched Winter with. You rose fully to your feet with a growl, but Winter waved you back down.

"_Bel'la dos_," She replied with a wicked smile, dripping with sarcasm. "Did it take four years for you to realize who I was? Very slow, _sir_."

"I knew whom you were a long time ago," Jarlaxle responded, and neither of you could tell if he was lying. "But by pretending not to, you have in this way served Bregan D'aerthe well for the four years. _Bel'la_ dos, _Winter_."

"_Vith'os_." Winter smiled, not angry at all. As she had mentioned earlier, she did like 'working' for Bregan D'aerthe. 

Jarlaxle's eyes widened slightly – not expecting this sort of response, then his mouth curled up at the edges, a half snarl-smile which you had already begun to recognize as something he did when he was going to say something shocking.

"_Asanque *_. Your oath on it?" 

You were expecting such an answer, but Winter, oddly, had not been. She blinked once, owlishly, then recovered her composure and smiled sweetly.

"More likely in your dreams."

Jarlaxle smirked. "I will look forward to it." 

Winter snorted derisively and changed the subject before it deteriorated further. "Why inform me now that you know who I am?"

"Because I may need your help, not as Velve but as Winter." Jarlaxle said seriously, then his mood changed again, volatile as ever. "Though if Mikaras had given me a better description of you I may have scheduled this occasion earlier by a few years."

"Help? What is so great a problem that the great Jarlaxle and Crenshinibon cannot solve?" Winter said mockingly, glazing over the last part of Jarlaxle's comment.

"Several centuries ago a being of great power broke an artifact of crystal and threw the shards across space and time, wherein two ended up on this world," Jarlaxle began, ignoring her rhetorical question as well.

"_Usstan zhaun *_." Winter folded her arms. "I have the other, remember?"

"_Uss d'lil velvar_ *." Jarlaxle mused, flicking his gaze down for a moment, then added as an afterthought, "Which was one factor taken into consideration – 'Velve' was under less suspicion because 'he' carried two swords, both painfully plain. And 'he' was staying outside Bregan D'aerthe, while I believed that you would prefer to stay as close as possible to Crenshinibon. And 'Velve' was one of the few whom were willing to leave the city at the smallest notice."

Winter shrugged in unconcern, infuriatingly, then said lightly, "Now are you going to get to the point?"

Jarlaxle stayed calm. "The being's aim was pathetic. From what I know it was attempting to throw both shards onto an unpopulated planet and not onto one of the Fractured Worlds, which..."

"Having a high magical saturation and a high proportion of sentient or magically enhanced beasts, would be one of the worser types of Worlds to throw leech-shards on," Winter finished for Jarlaxle, grinned at his raised eyebrow, and explained, "I _do _pay attention to my lessons."

Ignoring the unspoken question 'What lessons?', she continued, "So, do you have something new to tell me?"

"Something of similar power-signals has appeared in the Underdark," Jarlaxle said frankly.

"Four years ago, I believe? A time after I came to Menzoberranzan," Winter nudged her luxurious ponytail over her shoulder and entwined her fingers of her right hand in it, playfully. 

The distraction broke Jarlaxle's hesitation and astonishment at her answer, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and cold, "Did it have to do with you?"

"_Nav_," Winter shook her head, ponytail bobbing. 

"Then how did you know?"

Winter smiled, infuriating again. "_Natha yorn vel'bolen zhahus naut natha yorn zhaunus *_."

Jarlaxle bit his lip, furious at Winter's whimsical, playful attitude to something which he obviously thought very serious.

"_Uss zhalus kulggen uss' abbilen *_." Winter quoted.

"_Whol abbilen orn alur kyorl dossta rath *_," Jarlaxle continued absently, then his eyes twinkled. 

Winter sighed and played along, finishing the rather incoherent proverb, "_Jhal zhahn tlu kyone del rath'elgar, whol lil uss dos xal khal zhah dosstan *_. _Usstan zhaun_. It does not have truth."

"_Asanque_, but I have no time to play word games with you. _How did you know_?"

"_Natha yorn vel'bolen..._" Winter began, placidly.

Jarlaxle held up a hand, cutting her off. "No matter then. But you do recognize that this...being is a threat to both our crystal friends?"

"Irr'liancrea is _abbil_ to me, but I suspect Crenshinibon is but _abban *_ to you," Winter said easily. "_Nav_, I do not see this threat. Has it moved against you in some way? Attempted to practice its throwing arm on Crenshinibon again? And why worry...that shard you currently call 'friend' is more trouble than even you can handle. This creature may be doing you a favor."

"Crenshinibon assures me this is a different being from the last, and more dangerous," Jarlaxle said sharply. "I will be the one to judge if the shard is 'more trouble than I can handle'. And no, although it has not moved in a concrete way against me or mine, signs of it have just surfaced in Menzoberranzan. My..."

"Territory," Winter became more and more placid as Jarlaxle grew more and more frustrated. "Like animals, hmm? Make your peace with it, then. This is none of my concern."

"Not if it takes Irr'liancrea?"

"It has not tried to do so. Irr'liancrea told me that Reima...ah, but that is none of your concern."

"Reima? How did you...what did your sword say about this?"

Winter shrugged, playfully.

"Winter..."

She shrugged again, and appeared to lose interest, her eyes wandering around the room. Jarlaxle was clearly furious now – his face glowed in the infrared, suffused in crimson.

"_Elg'caress._" he snarled. Winter chuckled absently at him, and continued to scan the room thoughtfully.

"Winter!"

"Oh, do be quiet," Winter said casually, frowning now, but at Jarlaxle's table.

You watched Jarlaxle tense, beyond fury now, and wondered mildly if he would burst a vein. He started for her, fingers curling, jewelry and boots silent now. His sleeve shifted up slightly, magically, to reveal the glint of hidden blades. 

Throwing knives! You snarled a warning.

"Ah, there it is." Winter said brightly, and drew Irr'liancrea in a blur of gray metal that flashed into blue, the sword elongating and returning to its usual jagged-edged beauty.

Above the desk, something flashed once, red in the infrared and blue in normal vision, and a shard of crystal shorter than Irr'liancrea appeared, hanging in the air, pulsing an angry red of challenge. As you watched, Irr'liancrea too began to glow, a hard blue.

Winter cocked her head at Jarlaxle, who stared at her, then at Crenshinibon, then back at her, then she smiled – _smiled_ - sweetly when she made sure she had his – and the shard's – full attention. "What did _Crenshinibon _say about this?"

--

Language:

__

Mzilst ssin'urn: Very beautiful

__

Bel'la dos: Thank you

__

Asanque: As you wish

__

Usstan zhaun: I know

__

Uss d'lil velvar: One of the swords

__

Natha yorn vel'bolen zhahus naut natha yorn zhaunus: A servant of Lloth which was not a servant of Lloth knew

__

Uss zhalus kulggen uss' abbilen: One should shield ones' friends

__

Whol abbilen orn alur kyorl dossta rath: For friends will then watch your back

__

Jhal zhahn tlu kyone del rath'elgar, whol lil uss dos xal khal zhah dosstan: But then be wary of backstabs, for the only friend you may trust is yourself

__

Abban: Ally


	12. Small Talk

Chapter 12

Small talk

Winter held Irr'liancrea with a two-handed grip, raising the tip, and the crystal began to glow, hotter and brighter, so you averted your eyes. Crenshinibon too mirrored its move, and a weird keening sound reverberated around the room.

"_Nav_!" Jarlaxle grabbed Winter's hand. "A confrontation now would alert Reima here!"

"It already knows." Winter said casually. "And I prefer to take the fact that it has not yet moved against you as a token in its favor. How now, Crenshinibon? Would you answer my question?"

Jarlaxle sighed, sounding resigned, though he did not let go of Winter. "Crenshinibon believes that an alliance with his brother would be in order and of mutual benefit, since it does not know where Reima is now, and does not know Reima's intentions."

Who was this Reima?

"What it believes, or what you believe?" Winter challenged.

Jarlaxle grimaced.

"Hmph," Winter did, however, lower her sword tip to the ground. "Very well done, Jarlaxle. Usually Crenshinibon does not like a wielder with a will of his own."

"It took some persuading," Jarlaxle admitted.

The blue and red shards finally seemed to reach some conclusion – both of them dimned in intensity, and the mercenary leader seemed to breathe a little easier.

"Besides," Winter added mischievously, "You were not sure if it could defeat me in a single combat, considering the different ways the two shards use to get their energy. Crenshinibon is strongest in sunlight, but this is the Underdark, and Irr'liancrea's method is the superior. Working alone, I may be a threat, working against you, worse, working with you would seem the best, no?"

"There was also that," Jarlaxle said grudgingly, obviously seeing no gain in lies, at least not in this situation. Crenshinibon flared once, as if in fury, then steadied into a gentle pulse when Jarlaxle glanced at it. "It also believes that it is your shard's _alur *_..." Jarlaxle growled and winced as if at a hidden blow. 

Brilliant blue light boiled forth from the sword for a moment, then became gentle again. All of you shook the spots out of your sensitive eyes.

"Why?" Jarlaxle asked, suspiciously, and you understood that the pain had probably come from Crenshinibon, displeasure at its wielder, and somehow, for some reason, Winter and Irr'liancrea had intervened and brought forth something almost like an apology.

"Irr'liancrea's will and mine are one," Winter said dryly, "Neither of us are '_alur_' to the other. We are _abbil_ and we are partners, and have been for more than a century. You, however, your relationship with your shard is unstable and new. The two of you do not trust each other, and although you need the shard's power and it needs a wielder, it does not like your spirit, and has been unable to break it."

Winter continued through Jarlaxle's unreadable expression, "Which is why you normally hide it, even from me when I came in as Velve, even though its presence could have forced an admission, because you would like to give the impression that you are _alur_, because you know that Crenshinibon would never accept a partner-relationship." 

"You think you can manipulate the shard – you are wrong. It is helping you now because you keep it from other wielders, and because your ambition matches its own, and you have the resources and knowledge to give it what it wants. It wants power – power is what drives it, and through you it thinks that it can achieve as much of that as possible..."

Crenshinibon pulsed once, darkly, but then became neutral again.

"However, given a choice between destruction for saving you, or staying out of it and losing you, Crenshinibon would chose the first, while Irr'liancrea would choose to save me. That is the basic difference between them. 'My' shard wants power too, but there are...priorities. It takes that rule about protecting and caring for wielders more seriously."

"It does not mean that Crenshinibon cannot change, though it is unlikely that it will. Though this will interfere in my mission, Irr'liancrea and I would try to support a partner-based relationship between the both of you. At least you're suitable for a wielder," Winter sniffed. "Drizzt certainly was not."

"You have met him?" Jarlaxle seemed slightly dazed at the sudden surfeit of frankness from Winter, an abrupt change from her riddles, and apparently forgetting to ask about her 'mission'. 

"Yes, and his father too."

You thought that Winter was purposefully keeping Jarlaxle as off balance as possible, and was succeeding rather well. Jarlaxle blinked at this, forgetting to ask about her purpose in this world in the first place.

"How..."

"Lovely fellow, though a little too quick to choose thinking with his swords than actually with his brain," Winter said airily. "Now, about Crenshinibon..."

Jarlaxle pondered, for a moment, about discussing 'Drizzt's father' over 'Crenshinibon', probably, because he hesitated.

Winter patted the hand on her arm patronizingly. "Do not worry about it. However, he was rather...surprised to realize you saved Drizzt's life. But he says it does not repay 'the debt'. Whatever it is."

"Does not repay?" Jarlaxle repeated in disbelief. 

"He was preparing to go down after his son in any case. If you had not forced poor Rai'gy to cast the rituals on Drizzt, you may have had to deal with an enraged Zaknafein along with a sulking Entreri."

"Your _Quar'valsharuk-ilharn_ has regained Lloth's favor," Jarlaxle said, dismissive about the cost to Rai'gy for using Lloth-rituals to benefit _dobluth *_, though his eyes narrowed slightly at Winter's words, and you could see him consider the bait, then take it with resignation. "So he is still alive then?"

"I would not say so," Winter smiled, riddles again, ignoring Jarlaxle's bait – that he knew of the relationship between herself and Rai'gy Bondalek.

Crenshinibon pulsed brighter, impatiently, drawing the two elves' attention. You guessed that the shard did, probably, possess some sort of alien intelligence – and was fully capable of speaking, though why it chose instead to speak only to its wielder in this case was beyond you. It did not, predictably, appear to approve of either Winter or Irr'liancrea, and was markedly showing its displeasure by the sharp, piercing light radiating from it.

Winter ignored it. "Now, as to Reima. I doubt that it resurfacing in Menzoberranzan was of such importance..."

"It would not...if the signs had not shown up always in a certain location in this city." Jarlaxle calmed somewhat, the hold on her arm lighter now, nearly like a caress, but Winter seemed not to notice. You considered warning her, then decided she probably knew. Even if she did not, she would find out.

"The Academy?" Winter hazarded, glanced at Jarlaxle, then mused, "No, not that. A place of power – not Gromph Baenre either? No, but close...House Baenre?"

Jarlaxle frowned at her, cold again. "Are you reading my mind?"

"No, your face." Winter said frankly, smiled at the disbelief on his features, then continued. "House Baenre. Well, well. Why am I not surprised?"

"Triel has inherited Baenre's tendency to ally herself with strange and unique personalities," Jarlaxle agreed. "But you understand the urgency?"

"No." Winter said placidly, then spoke again before Jarlaxle's eruption of fury. "It has been four years. Nothing has happened, and even if the sightings were to...continue they would be of little concern to myself. I am here as observer, and it would take something as important as a direct blow against me to make me interfere. I would think Reima is your problem. Its type normally do not care about 'good' leech-shards. And there is always the chance that it is, for some reason, watching Baenre."

"You are complacent," Jarlaxle accused coldly.

"_Nav, kyone *_." Winter corrected. "It may be here for Irr'liancrea...it might not. If it is not, I do not wish it to change its mind. Good luck, Jarlaxle." She made as if to turn away, brushing off his restraining hand with studied care.

"Where would you go?" he demanded, as you stood up and padded to her side.

"My act here has been exposed – time to fall back on another," Winter said frankly. "If you can find me, I will hide again. Baenre and Crenshinibon and Reima are none of my concern, do you understand? Or am I speaking in terms too difficult for you?"

"Winter..." Jarlaxle folded his arms casually. "Very well. What are your terms?"

"Terms?" Winter turned around with exaggerated curiosity.

"There is something you want," Jarlaxle remarked, calm again now that he thought he had the edge.

"Want?" Winter repeated, as if it was a word from an unknown tongue. "_I_ want? What I want is to complete this silly mission and return to whence I came from. However, that goal may come all the swifter if Reime were to toss Crenshinibon to a safe planet. If it comes to me, so be it. I have no need for power-induced ties to Menzoberranzan, or the rest of this Fractured world – power is another word for responsibility which I do not _want_."

Jarlaxle clearly did not understand her – he rocked on his heels, an unattractively endearing gesture, if unconsciously done, for his anklets scratched noisily against each other.

"Rai'gy..." he began.

Winter's eyes narrowed, and gleamed unpleasantly, her grip on Irr'liancrea tightened. "Rai'gy can take care of himself," she finally said, shortly. "You need him. And you never kill or hurt someone or something unless there is truly a lot of gain in it. But hurt Rai'gy and you lose Kimmuriel's trust as well – and you condemn yourself forever in my eyes."

"...might wish to speak with you in his rooms," he finished, and smirked at her slight flush of embarrassment at jumping to conclusions.

"What does he want now?" Winter said, annoyed at her blatant slip.

Jarlaxle shrugged expressively, shoulders rolling. "_Lloth zhaunil *_."

"Perhaps she does," Winter said sourly. "You had better not have tried to get him to persuade me. It only serves to raise his blood pressure."

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, but Winter did not explain her last sentence. He gave up on the trivial matter, but spoke again when she turned her back on him and Crenshinibon and headed for the door. "Will you still continue as Velve?"

Winter turned back, and paused. "What for? _Lil alurl velve zhah lil velkyn uss _*."

"It may be suspicious if you were to walk out of here with a pretty face," Jarlaxle teased. For some reason, his flippant mood had returned, even in the face of Winter's rejection of his request for aid, and her leaving Bregan D'aerthe.

Winter smiled, then traced a circle in the ground with Irr'liancrea's tip, around herself and yourself. "_Asanque_," she mockingly saluted Jarlaxle, who started for her, paused, then chuckled at some joke intensely amusing only to himself, and began to utter a string of words in the other language.

The scene blurred, a familiar feeling of disorientation buffeted your senses, and the two of you were elsewhere – a small room with three doors, carpet, one table, and four chairs – one of which contained Rai'gy.

He leaped up at her entry, astonished, then settled back down into the stone seat. "You met Jarlaxle." It had not a hint of a query in it.

Winter played with her ponytail, slender fingers teasing at the tips, sheathed Irr'liancrea which had turned back to its normal guise, and then took a seat – you sat down next to her on the carpet. "He knows."

"He would have found out eventually." Rai'gy seemed resigned to it.

"He said you wished to talk to me?"

"I never..." Rai'gy began, frowned, then sighed. "I never told him that. But yes, I did want to speak to you. About Reima."

"What about it?" Winter put her feet up on the table in a noisy clatter – Rai'gy was too nervous or apprehensive of this Reima to disapprove.

"Do you think it will kill Jarlaxle?"

"If Jarlaxle gets into his way." Winter said obliquely. "I will not help Crenshinibon. Something I did not add when I spoke to Jarlaxle was that I respect Irr'liancrea's decisions, and it does not want to help its brother. In fact, it would be overjoyed if its brother was to suddenly disintegrate and cease to exist."

"Will Reima destroy Bregan D'aerthe?"

"Without Jarlaxle Bregan D'aerthe loses half its actual strength," Winter smiled. 

Rai'gy frowned.

"I do not understand why you are worried! Reima has not even shown signs of alliance to Baenre. It may not even be here for the shard at all..." Winter sighed. "But Irr'liancrea believes that this paranoid attitude is Crenshinibon's doing."

Rai'gy blinked.

"'Tis very easy to influence drow," Winter smiled, then paused. "Well, most drow. I can do it if you like. Would you like to bark like _nigouar_ or think you can fly?"

He shook his head. "Winter, be serious. You will not help Jarlaxle?"

"No."

"Not for Bregan D'aerthe?"

"I admit I have grown fond of the band, but no. The risk is too great."

"Not for yourself?"

"Myself? I always have several routes open if Reima were to come against me. You need not worry..." Winter said playfully. Rai'gy glared at her. Worry for Winter was probably the least on his mind.

"Not for me?"

"You, my _Quar'valsharuk-ilharn_?" Winter grinned. "What for?"

"You owe me a favor."

"Repaying it this way would put _you_ in my debt, _zhuanth'abbil_ *."

"_Asanque_," Rai'gy said, too eagerly for your liking. And Winter's, too.

"I'd not babysit him," Winter warned. "I like Jarlaxle. But I will not stand over him all the time like a mother rothe over her calf. I will not step in if Reima decides to destroy Crenshinibon..."

"But if necessity dictates it you will protect Jarlaxle?" Rai'gy asked. "I care not about that damned shard. Bregan D'aerthe has functioned perfectly well without it, and will continue to do so even in its absence. If it survives this, well and good, but if it comes to an extreme circumstance where you have to make a choice...I will not be miserable if the shard were to, as you say, cease to exist."

"Why Jarlaxle? Without him you and Kimmuriel will hold Bregan D'aerthe." Winter pressed.

"Jarlaxle is currently all that holds Bregan D'aerthe together," Rai'gy said sharply, disliking the tone of the question. "He has great charisma, and the band is loyal to him – he and what he represents is synonymous with Bregan D'aerthe itself. If he dies – the band will fall apart. And _I_ do not wish that. Nor Kimmuriel."

"Did Jarlaxle tell you to do this?" Winter asked suddenly.

"He would be insulted if he learned I was asking this of you," Rai'gy replied promptly, very assured of this fact.

"You are wrong," Winter said dryly. "I would think he would be intensely appreciative."

Rai'gy stared at her.

"You may find out later," she shrugged, but you knew she was referring to the way Jarlaxle looked at her now, among other incidents. "But I may have to go now. Velve is no more – I will watch him another way."

"Around Crenshinibon?"

"If I need to."

"Can you do it?"

"Ye of so little faith," Winter said mockingly. "Of course I can. And fine, I agree to help you...but!" she raised a finger, "With some conditions."

"Anything."

"Firstly, that you do not tell Jarlaxle of our arrangement." Winter leaned back in the chair, somehow managing to look comfortable in the thin cushions.

"Agreed."

"Secondly, I dictate my own actions, but you give me any information that I may request...pertaining only to this, of course."

"Very well..."

"Thirdly, I will not move against Reima. And keep in mind that if I have to choose Irr'liancrea's safety over Jarlaxle, I will."

"That I expected."

"Good." Winter uncurled gracefully and stood up.

"Where would you go?" Rai'gy echoed Jarlaxle's question unwittingly.

Winter smiled. "None of your concern, either."

She stood back and drew a circle around yourself and herself again, with Irr'liancrea, but you noted that this time, before everything outside the circle blurred away, she glanced up as if reflexively to the ceiling.

You there the only one to see her wink mischieviously, as if up at something – or someone – who had been watching, before the feeling of disorientation washed over you and everything smudged away.

**

What had she done that for?

"You saw? Ah, of course you did," Winter grinned, and sat down on the bed in the _Olist El'lar_. "I suppose you did not realize that I had not shielded the conversation?"

No...oh. Jarlaxle had been watching?

"Obviously. Did you think he would let us leave so suddenly for Rai'gy's? Now he will wonder if I had meant what I said, or had I some other hidden agenda, or did I do it just for the sake of annoying him in some subtle way. Let it give him a headache. Right now I need a bath, and sleep." Winter smiled, smugly, and began to select clothing – plain robes. She discarded her armor to her undershirt, and removed the sword scabbards and other weapons, concealed or otherwise, retaining only Irr'liancrea which had returned to its normal state. It glowed in fitful, annoyed bursts.

Did Jarlaxle know that we stayed here?

"It is possible. I did not shield this place – it has its own shields against scrying, laid down when it was built, but it would not withstand an artifact of Crenshinibon's calibre. I care not. If he did not know we are staying here, I would not want to alert him to it."

What would she do now?

"Bathe." Was all she said about it, and opened the door to step outside.

What if Jarlaxle was watching?

Winter paused, and shot you an amused glance. "Let him."

You blinked. Irr'liancrea went a blank gray, then returned to a hot blue. Winter snickered at the both of you, rested the blade on her shoulder and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

You curled up on the bed and rested your nose on your paws, breathing in the scent of carpets, starched sheets and fur, and thought about what Winter would do next now that she had relinquished the character Velve. So much for Shebali, in any case – would she change you back now? It would be a pity – you had been growing fond of this form.

And Jarlaxle had known about 'Velve' for four years – if what he claimed was true. That was something annoying about the mercenary – half of the things he said were lies and the other half were true – and it was a fine line between them. Make it an invisible line.

If he had known about the two of you for four years, then there would be some point in continuing – wouldn't it? He had not interfered in the four years. Maybe he would not now.

And rothe would fly.

Cutting off on this depressing tangent you closed your eyes and slowed your breathing – slowly you sank into Sleep's welcoming arms, warm and drowsy and deliciously safe, feeling exhausted by all that had happened, sleeping the sleep uninterrupted by dreams.

You were returned to bare consciousness when the door opened. Smelling a not unpleasant blend of Winter and soap and hot water, you made a contented sound...

Winter hissed. "You!"

You jerked awake, wishing you could rub sleep-fogged eyes, and looked around wildly – before your gaze alighted on the figure sitting casually on the stone desk in the corner of the room closer to her bed, lazily hugging one leg to himself, the other dangling over the edge, making it seem, somehow, like a swashbuckling thing to do. He doffed his outrageous purple hat with the diatryma plume with a mockery of courtesy, and smirked at Winter's expression of shock and anger at this invasion of privacy. 

"Winter," Jarlaxle acknowledged, not the least put out at all.

--

Language:

__

Alur: stronger, superior

__

Dobluth: outcast

__

Kyone: careful

__

Lloth zhaunil: Lloth knows

__

Lil alurl velve zhah lil velkyn uss:The best blade is the unseen one

__

Zhuanth'abbil: Old friend


	13. Abrupt Twists

Chapter 13

Abrupt twists

"What are you doing here?" Winter snapped, then sighed when Jarlaxle opened his mouth. "No, do not answer that." She stalked over to her bed and dropped the discarded clothing onto it before seating herself and reaching for her comb. You half-started for Jarlaxle, curling for a pounce, weight to your hind legs, but settled back down at her warning glance, confused and stunned at the mercenary's presence – you had not even sensed his entry.

"_Asanque_," Jarlaxle shrugged, resting his chin on his knee, covertly watching Winter comb her hair. Fingers jerky with annoyance soon calmed, then she looked back at him, oddly amused now rather than angry. This change in reaction startled Jarlaxle, but he said nothing else.

"What is so important?" she inquired politely, as if this sort of thing happened very often, pushing her hair behind her then removing boots to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

Jarlaxle shrugged neutrally and continued to watch her with an unnerving intensity, an unblinking stare not unlike that of a serpent's.

"I would think you had seen enough already," Winter noticed, her tone becoming playful and uncomfortably suggestive. Her words slid right off you – then you blinked as your mind replayed them and then rewrote them in large, glaring letters, in italics, and with highlights.

The bathhouse! He _had_...why _hadn't_ Irr'liancrea...but the fact that Jarlaxle did not deny the hidden accusation seemed to amuse Winter more than annoy her.

"_Nav_," Jarlaxle smiled slowly, devilishly. "_Naut quin *_."

You snarled, and Irr'liancrea pulsed into malevolent life. Winter simply chuckled, if a little mockingly.

"I do not think you are here for that, either."

"I can change my mind."

"Very brave of you, considering that you are here without your shard." Winter put her had pointedly on Irr'liancrea's hilt, a veiled threat blatantly apparent. Jarlaxle, however, seemed very relaxed, oblivious, even.

"You'd not kill me."

"I can, however, _hurt_ you." Winter said nonchalantly, but took her hand off her sword's hilt. She did not seem the least bit less dangerous, however.

"Your oath on it?"

Winter glared at him, and you wondered if Jarlaxle was acting like this because he knew that it both amused and annoyed her, as well as being (for him at least) a source of not inconsiderable entertainment.

Probably. Jarlaxle merely smirked in the face of her scathing words, "I am sure that this is a novel way to attain my attention, and I appreciate your frank attitude, but if you do wish to continue you may do so in my absence." She stood up pointedly in a rustling of robes.

"What will you do?" Jarlaxle asked, and he did not refer to the present, but what she would do now that she had left Bregan D'aerthe.

"None of your business."

"I will find out eventually," Jarlaxle said calmly, and you knew this was true.

"Then I will hide again if it pleases me," Winter shrugged. "If you wish to play cat and mouse, then so will I. If I tire of the game...then the cat may find that the mouse has teeth."

Jarlaxle understood the reference, but you did not, and you kept silent. "Cats have both teeth and claws," he said playfully.

"And the cat may also be the mouse after all," Winter shot back. "Now, I would suggest that you leave before you raise my ire."

"Have I not?" 

"_Naut quin_," Winter walked slowly over to him, hips swaying, veiled invitation held out of reach. Jarlaxle put down his other leg and made as if to slip off the desk to meet her, but she covered the remaining distance with commendable speed, with a few long strides. Her right hand touched and lingered on the muscles of his bared stomach, and she ran her thumbnail over them. 

"You have a lot of guts for one so unprepared." 

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow at the last word, but made no move.

Her playful mood abruptly changed to vicious. "Want to see what they look like?" She curled her fingers into a malicious claw.

Jarlaxle pragmatically began to move his throwing dagger hand into a ready position, then literally froze at a few quick, sharp words from Winter. 

"Do you like the game now?" she asked, voice low and menacing, but her fingers uncurled gradually, becoming soft and caressing again. "You have no protection against Loremaster _faer_ * at all. Very pathetic, Jarlaxle." A holding spell took quite a bit to cast – somehow she must have incorporated it into her dialogue...

From the startled look on his face, he didn't understand why his shields had not been enough. You did.

"Your shields only guard against magic from this world," Winter tapped one of his medallions. You half-expected some sort of magical explosion, but it merely clinked against another. Jarlaxle had no choice but to watch – her voice was hypnotic, velvet over steel, lulling yet alarming.

"Pure Loremaster _faer_ is of Morikan and above mere natural magic. You may even be shielded against certain forms of physical attack. However, you are not shielded from _this_."

Her right hand snapped up, slipping behind his neck, pulling his head down, and she kissed him roughly on the lips, insultingly, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth, a degrading action that a master may carry out on a slave. Jarlaxle stiffened convulsively but could not jerk away...even if he had not been magically held; she was female and stronger than he was.

Finally she stepped away, and apparently had achieved the reaction she wanted – Jarlaxle had narrowed his eyes, his face flushing a hot red of humiliation and fury...eyes blazing with black wrath and a certain guilty desire. Small red clouds of heat formed as he breathed heavily, only to dissipate in seconds just as quickly as they had formed.

Callously she wiped her mouth with the back of her right hand. "Want some more?" she said coldly. "Or do you wish to leave now?"

Jarlaxle could move again, and his throwing arm went into position, then he apparently thought better of it. He probably knew that Winter was simply baiting his temper, but the insult was too much for his pride...and he would indeed be very exposed if nothing on him worked against her magic. You could see him debating whether to leave immediately or come up with some shocking answer, but he wisely chose the former. 

Jarlaxle whirled off the desk in a swirl of multicolored cloth, jewelry and boots silent, and just as abruptly disappeared, leaving behind him an air of reproach.

Winter let out a long, deep breath, and slumped against the wall. "Morikan. That may have been the hardest thing I have ever done."

It did seem a little harsh.

"He asked for it," Winter said defensively, her head jerking up, then she sighed and leaned more heavily on the wall. "Oh dear. But I may have pushed him too far."

Would he retaliate?

"He still needs my help," Winter said confidently, then rubbed her brow with the edge of her palm. "He will be furious for a while, but he knows he needs me."

And after this Reima was gone?

"If he were to confront me with Crenshinibon he may at least end up severely crippled, and so he will not." Winter pushed herself off the wall and sprawled on the bed. "It may however have cost me his friendship. _Vel'uss zhaun_? *"

Would it make him back off?

"We can always hope." Winter attempted to banter, but her heart was not in it. 

You did warn him, after all.

"Mmm."

As you rolled onto your side on the bed, enjoying the delicious prickling of fur straightening back from a crumpled position on your exposed flank, you really did believe Jarlaxle's claim – he would find the two of you, eventually.

"In a city."

What?

"He'd find us – anywhere that has Bregan D'aerthe."

So?

Winter rolled off the bed. "Well then. Where would you like to go? It looks like we have a choice. Pirating on the _Olath Niar_, the underground ocean? The surface world?"

You much preferred the comfort of a city.

"Baldur's Gate? I love that place." Winter grinned.

Underground.

"Maybe we can find Q'Xarrae then."

Would not Bregan D'aerthe...

"Bregan D'aerthe does not have roots in every city, only the main ones," Winter said, then ruefully added, "Yet. And I think I would like to see this Q'Xarrae. If we can find it. But I believe we have freedom to do so...this Reima seems to be taking its time."

Out again into the Underdark.

"Cheer up, Kel," Winter was energized again, at her newest decision. "'Twill be better than dancing around Jarlaxle and Bregan D'aerthe at every turn. I'd give Rai'gy something to contact me with."

The mission?

"Still in place. Crenshinibon will not touch the triggers and spells – it is not familiar with Loremaster _faer_ and probably may not even find them. I'd check back from time to time...but the rest would have to depend on Rai'gy." 

L'hurde helped with the whirlwind packing, gave some irrelevant advice on the Underdark and travelling, then waved the two of you away. In an inappropriately short time, it seemed, the two of you were back into the gloom of the Underdark.

**

You looked back at the fast-retreating, purple faerie fire lights of Menzoberranzan once as the two of you paced away. It really did seem too abrupt a move.

"Abrupt, Kel?" Winter wore Loremaster robes, armor and other Velve-apparel donated to _Olist El'lar_. The Name Blade still sat smugly at her hips, but Irr'liancrea she had somehow managed to fix to her shoulders, the hilt bobbing up and down along with her gait. She looked more comfortable and at peace than she had for several years.

"Of course. That would be best. Certainly I do not think Jarlaxle would expect us to leave so quickly...he probably believes that I believe that I am stronger and he, no threat, hence I would stay and continue my machinations in Menzoberranzan. Well, I will regret not being able to see his expression when he finds the birds flown and the nest empty, so to speak."

What had Rai'gy said?

"I gave the device and instructions to one of Jalynfein's minions. That mage is overfond of golems, but it would serve the purpose of delivering the missive to Rai'gy. Let my _Quar'valsharuk-ilharn_ panic if he wishes. I just hope he has the sense to do it out of earshot of Jarlaxle."

If Jarlaxle were to gain control of the device?

"Not of any use to him. He will not be able to use it to track me – it is keyed to Rai'gy. Let Rai'gy try to use his power over artifacts – it will be a waste of time and they will know it. In a while Bregan D'aerthe will lose interest. It is too expensive to concentrate resources on finding us."

You hoped she was right.

"Of course I am." Winter said with such supreme, self-mocking confidence that you laughed a _nigouar_'s snuffling laugh.

"Now our greatest enemy would be boredom," Winter observed with happy certainty.

You were not so sure.

The intoxicating sense of freedom lasted approximately an hour before the reality of cold stone, sore paws, and tedium set in.

**

Several months later, with no response from Rai'gy and no apparent further movements from Reima, you wondered if playing cat and mouse with Bregan D'aerthe was so bad after all. The last sentient beings the two of you had seen was a week ago, and knowing goblins, they would be pretty low on the 'sentient' ladder in any case.

A patrol group which had, predictably, freaked when they saw a female drow who walked with total unconcern in one of the 'wild' areas of the Underdark, and a large _nigouar_ still smelling faintly of its last kill. 

It seemed to be years away from any city, let alone a drow city, and you wondered if either your finding-sense was screwing up or Q'Xarrae was still moving around, somehow. It seemed to be in a different place every so often.

Winter, still unconcerned, seemed quite happy to follow, even if it meant this absolute boredom. This part of the Underdark was rather sterile and empty – no soil, no fungus, only dark rock twisted into strange shapes over the centuries by pressure. Metamorphic rock, Winter had called them. 

The next meal seemed to be stretching out ahead of you, far away...

Winter stopped abruptly, such that you bumped into her. She ignored it and knelt down, fingers tracing out a symbol that had been etched into the solid ground – an eight-sided star in a circle.

What?  
Winter frowned and looked around, before murmuring over the circle, before finally drawing Irr'liancrea and touching the tip of its blade to the symbol.

She sighed as if at some painfully obvious revelation, and straightened. "Demons, you can come out now. Both of you."

What you had thought to be a pillar of stone in front of you, naturally created by water in tunnels, rippled, like liquid. You realized what your mind had been telling you all the while – in such a dry place, how could that pillar have formed?

You bared your teeth and took a step back, as Winter raised her sword menacingly.

The pillar melted downwards, then whirled and blurred to form two indistinct shapes, before clearing to show two young-looking female elves, one with silvery-gold hair and bronze-tinted skin, the other with jet black hair and skin a deep chocolate color. Both had identical features, identical greenish-red eyes, and identical impish grins on their unbelievably beautiful faces.

The silver haired one wore scarlet and black samite robes, exquisitely embroidered with accentuating patterns, scintillating in the infrared and most probably in visual light as well, that was provocatively demure at parts and seductively revealing at others. The black haired one wore robes of a pure white, a total lack of color and decoration, though cut in the same way as the silver haired one's.

"Succubi?" Winter said dryly.

"_Nav_," the silver-gold haired one spoke, voice rich and throaty.

"Half demon," the black haired one agreed, her voice light and silvery.

"Half angel," the other one corrected.

"You know our mother," the black haired one added, perfectly on cue.

"Winter, that is. Kel doesn't." the silver-gold haired one continued, in a near-perfect sequence.

"I do?" Winter raised an eyebrow. "I do not think I know many demons. Especially succubi. And I did not think angels, of all creatures, would..."

"Mother's known as Raelmaztigar." The black haired one trilled. They both giggled at Winter's astonishment.

"What? But..."

"Mother can take both forms." The silver-gold haired one smiled.

"With an _angel_? Morikan, this world is turning upside down."

"Everything is possible..."

"Nothing is impossible..." they both said together, then laughed again, this time at each other.

"Raelmaztigar is remarkably perverted for a balor, then," Winter said dryly. "Always thought there was something wrong with him...er, her. It. So then. The two of you are his...its daughters?"

"Yep."

"_Xas_."

"What are you doing here then?"

"Going with you."

"_Z'hinin xuil dos_...._L'Illythiiri _is so cool."

"What for?" Winter inquired.

"Raelmaztigar said we'd be safer here with you than in the Abyss," The silver-gold haired one jumped into the air, sat cross-legged in space and tilted into a mad angle. "And it's more fun! Mother's so thoughtful."

"I _am_ going to speak with it later," Winter growled, but she was oddly placid about the prospect of two...demon-angels joining the group.

"How long have the two of you been in the Underdark?" she asked suddenly.

"Us? Oh. 'bout five years before this. We tried the surface first, but the Underdark's more fun. Drow are _so _adorable...even if Mother didn't let us bring some back as pets. We'd sneak over now and then for a bit of excitement. There's not much to do in the Abyss except annoy other balors and terrorize lower tanar'ri...the gods won't play." The black haired one pouted prettily.

With an angel...? And what was that about drow?

Winter ignored the chatter. "Did he...it know that Reima is in the Underdark?"

"Oh, Uncle Reima? Sure we know. Mother does too."

"You know Reima?" Winter blinked.

"Sure. What were his last words? Oh yes: the two of you are an abomination in the eyes of Order and Chaos and must be destroyed! I will end your miserable existences!" The black haired one said, her voice growing lower and archly rasping. They burst into snickers.

"That's why mother told us to go to you. Said we'd be safer." The silver haired continued when the two of them had calmed down. "And since you were passing by..."

"We didn't promise mother exactly when we'd meet up with you..."

"But mother's getting so stiff lately...like that Errtu. Brr..."

"Not much of a wonder then. I doubt the presence of both shards back on this world would have been enough to call back the attention of the higher powers, let alone get them to send a powerful representative. They want you two dead, then."

"So the demons keep us alive," the black haired one said happily. "There's a lot of trouble with Mother though. But Mother's one of the most powerful, so they sort of leave us alone."

"I am so surprised," Winter said dryly. "Very well then. What are your names?"

"Drow ones or real ones?" 

"Both."

"Real one..." the black haired one made a snarling, growling sound.

"Drow ones," Winter amended graciously.

"Veldrin for me," the black haired one said.

"Ssussun's mine." The other chimed in. They both snickered. 

Shadows and light...

"You know ours already. I assume Raelmaztigar told the two of you about me?"

Veldrin and Ssussun peered at Winter, then at you, and you felt uneasy in their alien eyes.

"Oh yes. The wielder of Irr'liancrea, gone offworld to study some other form of magic," Veldrin said breezily. "With more 'evil' friends than 'good' ones...including some of the Demon Council, all forged out of really odd circumstances. Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest, Winter to friends. And we're friends, aren't we?"

Winter gave up. "Yes, very well then."

--

Language:

__

Naut quin: Not yet

__

Faer: magic

__

Vel'uss zhaun: who knows


	14. Above, Balors, Calimport

Chapter 14

Above, Balors, Calimport

"So that rather obvious symbol was to tell me the two of you were in the area?"

Winter continued to sketch pictograms and odd circles into the ground. Carefully she touched the tip of her finger to a circle – immediately the ground it surrounded tinted a deep maroon.

"Of course," Veldrin said. The two twins peered constantly over Winter's shoulders, chattering to each other, to Winter, and to themselves, supremely carefree. "Is that _really _necessary?"

"I may owe Raelmaztigar," Winter touched the tracings, and they blurred to a white, chalky hue. "But I do not want a balor rampaging around in the Prime Material Plane. Zaknafein will never forgive me. Even if he can't really be bothered about this place any longer."

"Zaknafein Do'Urden?" Ssussun asked excitedly, hopping around the circle. "Look! I'm rampaging..." Her face flashed once into a demonic visage that was dog-like with large blazing red eyes and an unseemly amount of sharp pointed teeth, then back to her 'normal' pretty face.

"Yes." Winter said shortly, ignoring Ssussun's rather childish display. Several spirals turned a rich turquoise at the edges.

"He's so..._ssin'urn_." Veldrin gushed, sighed deeply and theatrically, giggled, and then stuck her tongue out at her sniggering sister. "Well, _you_ think so too."

"He may appreciate that," Winter said dryly.

"He went offworld before we managed to get permission from Mother to come to the Prime Material Plane," Ssussun pouted. "Or we could have snatched him from that sacrificial altar. Or taken control of Zin-carla. Whatever. But we could have done _something_."

"I do not think he'd like servitude to demonesses," Winter pointed out placidly. She traced a small network of triangles in the center of the symbol, and slowly leached them to a dull creamy color in the bluish light that Irr'liancrea was radiating.

"Why not?" Veldrin collapsed into a sprawling kneel next to Ssussun. "We'd be more fun than that stuffy Morikan he calls master now."

"Morikan? Stuffy?" Winter glanced up, then burst into laughter. "Oh dear. Oh dear. You have not met him then."

"'Course we have," Ssussun said airily, "He was 'interested' in our 'welfare' and he came wandering into the bit of the Abyss where we were playing a elaborate prank on Mother. He quite spoiled the prank too." She sniffed.

"Belnarath?"

"They say he's even worse." Veldrin said dramatically in a stage whisper that carried to the ceiling, like a stereotypical conspirator, just the perfect tones of horror, morbid fascination and mild disbelief. "They say he always is well mannered and polite and perfect...those sort of people who match all their socks and wear underwear of the same color."

Winter looked shocked at this, and then she dissolved back into mirth that you did not understand.

"So whom do you prefer?"

"We haven't met GrayWolf."

"You might like him, yes." Winter admitted, returning to the symbols, studying her handiwork with a critical eye, then righting a few possible errors with careful delicacy, rubbing away the color and outline then replacing them with something else. "The Joker."

"Can you introduce us?" Ssussun asked innocently. Her robes pooled around her, dark shadows in the light.

"What, to GrayWolf?"

"No, to Zaknafein." Veldrin pointed at a spiral thoughtfully. "That one's out of place."

Winter peered at it. "Why, thank you." She corrected her mistake – rubbing it out and replacing it somewhere else. "Zaknafein? Whatever for? He's already Morikan's, and I doubt you can pry that dragon's claws off one of his precious Masters. Besides, there is a rule about sneaking people into Sanctuary."

"Oh..." Ssussun and Veldrin pouted in concert.

"Stop doing that, unless you wish your mouth to be permanently distended," Winter said, without looking up. "There we go." She stood up before the symbols and began to speak a rolling series of rhymes and (to you) inconsequential verses. Veldrin and Ssussun watched with happy curiosity, you watched rather warily. Summoning a balor would be truly difficult, especially without 'proper' equipment, as Winter had casually mentioned earlier.

She 'tied off' the incantation and waited expectantly...then a dramatic swirl of red light burst into existence, along with smoke, a blast of heat, and such a strong scent of sulphur and brimstone that it made your head swim. 

"Cut that out, Rael." Winter said irritably, with a strong overtone of command in her expressive voice.

The smoke, smell and light dissipated immediately, revealing a huge lion with a deep ruby-red mane and dull crimson fur. Scarlet cat eyes glanced arrogantly at Winter. "Mortal," he...or it thundered with a booming voice. "How dare ye summon Raelmaztigar, Devourer of Souls, Eater of the Damned, Wielder of the..."

Winter began to laugh.

The lion stopped, gave her an injured look, then frowned at his...its progeny. The twins were snickering as well.

"_Venorsh_! *" it roared.

The three of them laughed harder.

"_Waelinar nin *_," it added sadly in the drow tongue, in a more normal, softer voice that seemed an odd mix of male and female.

"_Al thalrus_, _ilhar..._*" Veldrin managed, bit her lip, then laughed again.

"Rael, Rael." Winter shook her head theatrically. "When would you ever learn that a nice, neat entrance and exit is so much more unusual for a balor?"

"When you learn that a nice, neat holding symbol is most annoying to a balor," the lion patted a spiral with a large paw. "_Al thalrus_, Winter dear."

"My pleasure," Winter smiled. "It has been a long time, Rael. Too long, I would think. What is this I hear about angels?"

"What is this I hear about mercenary leaders?" Raelmaztigar retorted, sitting down on its haunches comfortably.

"Jarlaxle?" Ssussun asked, perking up. 

"Really?" Veldrin sat up straight. "He's a _nice_ one..."

"Oh be quiet, the two of you," Winter said, flushing slightly. "I regretted that. Well, most of it." She did not seem the least perturbed to find that the balor appeared to know everything. You however, began to feel like a rather embarrassed actor in a public play.

"I don't regret anything. I find it is a particularly useless sentiment," Raelmaztigar said graciously. 

"Live every day of your life, eh?" Winter raised an eyebrow. "But really, how could you..."

"The same I would of you," Raelmaztigar said comfortably.

"Demons and angels are natural enemies."

"The wielders of the opposing shards are natural enemies."

"If I ever feel I need more tutoring in the art of verbal fencing, at least I now know whom to look for," Winter said wryly. "You truly want me to babysit your prodigals?"

"Certainly the lot of you together may prove too large a challenge for Reima to undertake," Raelmaztigar waved a paw in the air. "And since I cannot persuade them to stay in the Abyss, and since this plane is actually the safest dimension for them to be in..."

"He wouldn't allow us into parallel ones," Veldrin explained.

"In some of them Zaknafein is still...there," Ssussun pointed out. "And a few others we'd like to have. Like that Drizzt. He'd be fun too."

"You think Morikan is stuffy, you may not like Drizzt all too much," Winter said carefully.

"He can change," Veldrin said with surety. Her eyes brightened. "I think he's still unattached now."

"He is," Winter grinned. "Human woman."

"Catti-Brie? Oh, she'd die while Drizzt's still amusingly young," Ssussun said airily. "And he thinks he's only friends with that Alustriel person, but she's human too. And the only other involvement is you, and since you won't share Jarlaxle can't you..."

"I didn't say _anything_ about Jarlaxle," Winter snapped. "And Drizzt is none of my concern."

Raelmaztigar had been watching with heavy amusement, but finally cut in, "Ah?"

Winter glared at the balor with freezing blue eyes, then decided, prudently, to change the subject. "Do you know what Reima is here for?"

"Veldrin and Ssussun, Irr'liancrea and Crenshinibon, possibly," the lion shrugged, an amazing feat for a big cat, casually bored, as if Reima was some insignificant insect instead of the dangerous, mysterious creature that even Jarlaxle was wary of. "Who cares what the minions of Order do. Defeat Reima if you can...you'd never be able to kill it. Angels can't die."

"Do you know where Q'Xarrae is?" Winter continued.

"Somewhere under the protection of another demon," Raelmaztigar shook its impossibly silky mane. "The Wandering one, I think. The one that sponsors most of the Wandering Tribes."

"Ah," Winter said, with dawning comprehension. "No wonder we kept walking in circles. But it can move so fast?"

"If it pleases the demon," Raelmaztigar said, dismissive. "Who cares what the minions of Chaos do, either, when it does not involve me or when I do not stand to gain."

"What can they do?" Winter jerked her head at Veldrin and Ssussun.

"Nearly everything that an angel can do, and nearly everything that a demon can do," the lion said cheerily. "Enjoy."

"Oh dear." Winter said mildly.

"What, you don't like us anymore?" Veldrin said, her eyes suddenly becoming teary, with an air of endearingly innocent sorrow.

"Stop that, you." Winter said without looking. "Hmm. I suppose they would be of some use."

"Use?" Ssussun clutched at the word mischievously. 'Sure! We can make clothing, make food, make war...and that other one of course which you're not interested in." she added wisely when Winter raised an eyebrow.

Winter snorted in mock contempt. "I see the two of you inherited your brains from your mother."

"A great compliment to them both," the demon said graciously.

"Mother!" both the twins protested.

"Is it advisable to go to Q'Xarrae then?" Winter inquired.

"Considering that the Wandering one is one of those whom do not truly approve of either Veldrin or Ssussun, no," Raelmaztigar said, then brightened. "However, if you truly wish to visit the city I have no objections, since I would like to see if my two beloved _dalharilar_ can best him. If they do, I can take over the Wandering Tribes. And Q'Xarrae, of course."

"Morikan forbid," Winter shuddered. "That's a no, then."

"Aww..." Veldrin pouted.

"Aww..." Ssussun sulked.

"Shut up. Well then, the surface world suddenly seems more attractive."

What?

"Oh Kel," Winter said affectionately. "You'd find that most of Faerun...or Aber-Toril for that matter – is rather harmless."

Harmless?

"I have to agree with the child," Raelmaztigar said. "What if you were to go to Evermeet? Or..."

"We don't have to go there," Winter said triumphantly, riding a wave of a new, pivotal and stunning revelation. "We just have to wander around the more deserted bits of it. Or the less noticeable bits of it. Besides, what is so dangerous to us that can possibly prove a threat?"

"Oh, what fun! Can we meet Drizzt?" Ssussun beamed.

"After giving him fair warning, perhaps," Winter smirked. "Why not try that assassin?"

"Artemis Entreri? Another good idea," Veldrin approved, then paused. "Except that he's human and not dark elf, but we can make exceptions...he's Bregan D'aerthe, isn't he?"

"So? But I did see his name on the roll," Winter admitted, the corners of her eyes crinkling with wicked laughter. "He's one of those whom have unknowingly 'joined' the band...or rather, those they manipulate for their profit. Drizzt's name is there too. I was hard put not to laugh when they explained to me what that section meant."

"Very wickedly smart, this mortal band...but most drow-run organizations are." The balor approved, then appeared to lose interest, yawning to show a frightening array of dagger-sharp ivory teeth and a large rough tongue. "Now, do you have anything else to ask me? I was busy torturing someone."

"Accept my heartfelt apologies for tearing you away from your entertainment," Winter said dryly. The demon chuckled, bowed its head and shook its mane again as she clicked her fingers, and Raelmaztigar disappeared in another theatrical puff of crimson smoke. After some coughing and fanning, the smoke disappeared, allowing you to contemplate the flushed and eager faces of your comrades clearly.

But you did not expect a balor to behave that way...

"Rael's a different sort of balor," Winter explained, "And you must not judge the actions of an entire species by that of a few examples. Though it did help in this case that Rael is my...ah, I could call him...it friend, I believe...and wanted to come over."

"Oh yes, Mother's so much nicer than the Others," Ssussun agreed. "Are you going to the surface dressed like that?"

"Can't go to the surface a dark elf," Winter complained as she scuffed out the symbols.

"Nothing a little magic can't change," Veldrin smiled. "You can be blue! Or something. I mean, we've got a red-black and a silver-gold already. And you already have the robes. And the sword. And the eyes."

"I will think of something. So we settle for being freaks?" Winter seemed to be enjoying herself. "I may have to make myself resemble the two of you so we can all pass as sisters. That should be easier...and less likely that I will be recognized."

"Oh, sisters!" Ssussun clapped her hands with childish abandon. "More and more fun."

You let out a little heartfelt groan.

**

"The hiatus is getting more and more out of hand," Winter mused, blinking in the sunlight, the spell she had cast speeding up the adaptation of her – and your – eyes to the harsh brightness of the surface.

The first thing you were impressed with was the abundance of new scent and life. You were in what Winter had termed a forest – surrounded by green, earthy scents, strange calls, with some like birds and some like tiny insects...and the air was _moving_. Everything was splashed with a riotous array of colors and texture, so unlike that of the Underdark...

Veldrin and Ssussun pranced around happily in the...

"Grass," Winter murmured, taking a deep, wistful breath. "Oh Morikan. So much sound, life, wind...I had no idea I missed being Above so much."

You looked up, and your gaze seemed to stretch into eternity. The endless 'sky' soared above you, and for a moment you felt crushingly small and insignificant. White colored, fluffy substances scudded over the brilliant blue, soft against hard, two different kinds of beauty merged together in one magnificent, living tapestry.

"Where are we anyway?" Winter asked Veldrin. The two of them had created the dimension door over to the Surface.

"Oh, somewhere near Calimport. We can walk a bit." Ssussun said happily. "Or we can ride! Yes, ride...but normal horses don't like us, silly fuzzy things."

"I should think so," Winter said dryly. "Since in your...other form you can tear out their throats with a snap of your jaws."

"But first you have to change color," Veldrin said firmly. "Like a chameleon! Have you seen a chameleon, Kel? If you want to see one I can turn into one now..."

No you hadn't, but you did not really want to.

"Aww..."

Winter chuckled. "If blue you say, then blue it will be." Her skin color began to change as she spoke, from a deep black lighter up into a color that seemed to waver between a dark tan and a dark blue. She ran a hand through her hair – then as she shook it out in the light the light seemed to reflect off a soft, very light baby blue before white again.

"That's a neat trick," Veldrin said admiringly.

"Now for the other part..."

You knew Winter would take quite some time, so you sat down on the sweet-scented grass and put your head on your paws. Veldrin and Ssussun soon lost interest and wandered around the meadow picking flowers, occasionally squealing to each other over some new find, and you wondered how young they actually were. However, youth was often not measured by age...

"Ah." Veldrin and Ssussun were back to her side in seconds, and they took one look and burst into laughter.

"Is it that bad?" Winter chuckled, turning to look at you. Instead of her 'normal' face, there was one now, unnervingly, an exact copy of the twins', as were her robes changed to follow theirs in fashion.

"No, it's fantastic," Veldrin said enthusiastically. "We'd copy your weapons and bag. Now do we go in as the Terrible Trio?"

Hence christened, the Terrible Trio and one _nigouar_-drow advanced on the surface city.

**

"People are _staring_," Veldrin said in an excited whisper. "What fun!"

"After we wreck havoc here we can continue to overturn Baldur's Gate, then maybe invade Waterdeep and then start a riot in Silverymoon," Ssussun enthused.

Winter chuckled. People were indeed staring at the three elves of radical appearance and apparent, self-assured power, and yet feeling slightly uneasy – the 'aura' of those of the Abyssal Planes did that to Primes – those of the Prime Material Plane. Even you, used to Veldrin's and Ssussun's company, still felt slightly uncomfortable around them.

Calimport was hot and the air heavy with spices, reeks, and metaphorically – the scent of the rich and the stench of the poor. Beggars thronged the filthy street sides and corners, palsied hands stretched hopefully out towards passers-by, and rich merchants in their rich carriages arrogantly took the streets. All around you, shouting in the strange tongue of the surface realm – common, it was called – and unfamiliar smells and sights...you felt quite lost, and stuck closer to Winter.

"Can we pick a fight?" Ssussun nudged Winter hopefully in the ribs, eyeing a few disreputable looking guards around a merchant on a...horse, the beast was called. 

"No," Winter said firmly, firmly taking both twins by the arms and herding them away from the more volatile-looking citizens of the streets who appeared to be taking an interest.

"Kidnap a pasha?" Veldrin asked, just as enthusiastically, jerking her head towards a particularly ornate carriage which was rattling its way apparently towards another equally ornate building ahead.

"No."

"Burn down a guild?" Ssussun pointed one dainty foot at a massive stone building that managed to seem like it was lurking even though it bordered the busy street.

"No."

"Aww, come _on_."

Winter chuckled. "We are here to play, but in such a way that we will not be _too_ noticeable or _too_ much trouble that Reima decides to come up here after us, yes Kel?"

You nodded absently, trying to keep your paws out of the worst of the unidentifiable muck on the streets, which appeared to be getting more and more crowded towards the heart of the city.

"Kill Entreri and work as assassins?" Veldrin asked again, brightly, as if struck by a new thought. "He should be around here _somewhere_...and Kel can find him!"

Was it you who noticed a few eyes suddenly glance at the four of you then glance away?

"Oh be quiet, Veldrin," Winter sighed, apparently noticing as well.

"You can't beat him?" Ssussun challenged.

"Yes, I mean you beat Tantras'nen...and fought Zaknafein Do'Urden to a standstill. Didn't you?"

"Of course I can," Winter said absently, patting the Name Blade. "But defeating him will probably draw Bregan D'aerthe's attention...then we have to move again before we can have some real fun. As to Zaknafein, I only managed that once – without magic. He gets clever even faster than his son. By the third time, he already knew most of my favorite moves _and_ the counters, that bastard. With magic, now _that_ is a different matter."

"He is, you know." Veldrin smiled innocently.

"Eh?" Winter peered at her.

"A...you know, illegitimate child. Though that doesn't matter really, etcetera. I mean, the two of us are illegitimate according to most laws."

"Zaknafein? Okay..." As Winter digested this apparently shocking fact, she pulled Veldrin and Ssussun down a quieter street and a less reputable one. Was it only you who noticed that the shadows seemed longer than necessary?

"Why do you think he left the Wandering Tribe?" Ssussun said just as innocently. "Swords and all, even if he's so good he can probably go for chieftain? And start anew in a place where females rule?"

"I was...wondering," Winter admitted. "They do not like...bastards, it is true. And in Menzoberranzan, they simply do not care about males to bother about lineage. He never told me...but I suppose him telling me this sort of matter is too much to expect of the closemouthed fellow."

You weren't listening, but instead concentrating your senses on the human leaning against one of the cleaner portions of the wall ahead, his only visible bit of clothing his cloak, and it was too rich for him to be a beggar...

You snarled a warning when you saw the flash of metal at his belt, and the three of them immediately focused their attention on the figure.

The twins smiled happily, a pair of identical smirks of satisfaction, but it was Veldrin who spoke and identified the figure. "Artemis Entreri."

--

Language:

__

Venorsh: Silence 

__

Waelinar nin: Young(sters) now

Al thalrus, _ilhar_: Well met, mother.

__

Dalharilar: daughters


	15. Cheating

Chapter 15

Cheating

The human's arms were folded casually and in such a way as to make his hands out of sight and probably not too far away from the hilts of his weapons, a mockery of the normal 'peace' gesture.

"Are you sure?" Winter said dubiously. It took you some time to realize she was not speaking drow...and oddly, you could understand it. Some sort of spell?

"Sure I am." Veldrin nudged her sister with her elbow. "I can _feel_ that dagger of his."

The human frowned at them, as if wondering – and rightfully so – why three elven females were discussing him in his presence.

"So what do you want to do now?" Ssussun ducked behind Winter and shoved her forward gently. "Go on...we want to watch a sword fight!" Veldrin made an enthusiastic affirmative noise.

The human raised his eyebrows.

Winter chuckled, but stepped forward. "I think that this is a bad way to call attention, Ssussun..."

"Who are you?" Artemis Entreri, if that was his name, asked coldly, in tones that meant he expected an answer – a powerful personage, perhaps, in this city?

"Well...we do not have a species name yet," Veldrin said, not intimidated at all, and still studiously examining the human. "We were from the Underdark. And before that, the Abyss. Before that is a...metaphysical question."

"The Abyss!" Entreri's eyes widened, and though nothing else about him moved, he gave the sudden impression of a coiled spring, ready to fight or run. He stared at the four of you as if expecting you to turn into ravening monsters at any moment.

"These forms are prettier," Winter said casually. "And although the coloring is just amusing it is less conspicuous than a dragon's."

"What _are_ you...what is your business in Calimport?" Entreri inquired, still looking apprehensive, but in the type of apprehension that meant that he was only afraid of what they may change into, and that he was confident of his chances if they stayed in their current forms and did not utilize strange forms of magic.

"Anything at all," Ssussun said before Winter could think of a reply.

"That's fun," Veldrin added.

Winter appeared to give up – she went along with their attitude. "That's creatively destructive," she grinned.

"Nice wording," Veldrin approved.

"Or maybe just simply complex," Winter continued, drawing Irr'liancrea, then striking a dramatic pose, though you noticed that it could just as easily be converted to a 'ready' stance. Entreri appeared to notice this as well – he surreptitiously shifted a foot forward, and tensed.

"Oh, forget it," Winter sighed, then charged, sword high and parallel to the ground, garnering an astonishing burst of speed from a standing start. 

Entreri appeared to brace himself...then his eyes widened as she leaped high into the air and swung the long sword down in a dazzling, vicious arc. He pushed himself backwards, jerking his head back and so missed having a long gash cut into his skin from between his eyes to his jaw, then had to fling his hands out for balance.

Winter landed softly and, as Tilarjen had done, lunged forward, sword first. Entreri was commendably fast – he leaped desperately to the side, slamming by accident into the wall, knocking his breath out of him, but avoiding being impaled on the blue sword like a butterfly on a pin, avoiding even the slightest injury. Winter chuckled and converted the thrust into a sideward slash, another vicious blue arc.

An unnerving clash of metal instead of the sound you had been expecting: the wet sound of the crystal sword tearing into flesh.

Entreri had drawn his sword in a blur of metal. Though the sword was only half-out of its scabbard he had angled it in such a way that Winter's sword would not be able to continue its mad arc to slice open his chest. 

The sound of swords shearing off each other was not unlike the sound made by a giant scissors, metallic and rasping. Winter leaped back as a dagger, jewels reflecting what light there was in the alley into your eyes, slashed at her hand, then had to parry and equally vicious swipe from Entreri's sword that would have taken off her arm.

The twins were unconsciously holding hands, both pairs of eyes shining as they watched the sword fight, and you padded anxiously around them, feeling restless. Entreri appeared to be the best Winter had come up against so far...that you had seen, of course.

Winter laughed – laughed, as Entreri dodged a high sweep and stabbed at her robes with his sword. She leaped up, and he twirled to a crouch, his dagger-hand flashing through the air, the dangerous triangle of metal only visible as a gray blur...

Winter landed softly on the cobble stones, a long rip in her prized cloak. She uncurled to her feet, all dangerous grace, back to the three of you at an angle, and as you watched and Entreri watched, the rip repaired itself magically.

"Magic," Entreri said in distaste, then lunged again, sword first.

So far neither had managed to cut the other into ribbons, and they were already well past what Winter termed 'foreplay' (the sounding out of the opponent with tentative moves) into the faster and more demanding aspects of the 'dance'. 

It did look like a dance, perhaps, from far away – two partners weaving around each other and attempting to anticipate each other's movements, concerted, almost choreographed twirling – but from here you thought it just looked like a display of elemental savagery. From here it looked exactly like it actually was: two beings attempting their best to kill each other.

"No special moves?" Winter said suddenly, sounding rather disappointed, even as her sword reversed direction to block and shove away a wicked thrust. Her 'style' was mostly fluid arcs this time, for some reason – her own rather strange 'special move' of random jabs and slashes had not yet been tried. 

The twins blinked, then snickered as Entreri, facing the three of you this time, allowed a look of surprise to cross his face. Normally one did not try to speak during a serious contest – it was considered wasting energy. Only amateurs did that.

"You wish a...special move?" Entreri said, pronouncing the last two words with condescension, but was amazingly not even out of breath yet. His intonation implied that Winter was already at a disadvantage, with one weapon to his two. 

As if to demonstrate this he suddenly pressed forward, crossing his sword with Winter's, and continued his lunge such that Winter's sword was pressed back closer towards her. Even as Winter slipped away out of the dangerously exposed stance, Entreri's dagger arm slashed out, his dagger appearing to become an extension of his hand, nicking Winter under her left elbow.

"Four years with two swords," Winter admitted, wincing slightly.

"Use two swords, then," Entreri said graciously, though not truly understand her implication, attacking again, his sword leading, then when he was close enough, his dagger slashed forward. Winter parried first by smashing his sword wide, then turning her sword quickly to catch and push away his dagger with the end of Irr'liancrea, using the momentum to whirl into a roundhouse kick. Her boot met Entreri's throat, and she twirled back into balance.

"One sword you already cannot handle," she replied, mockingly, attacking again as he coughed and choked and staggered back. She launched Tantras'nen's rather mad move of a furious series of stabs that would leave the user's defense wide open and the receiver frantically attempting to parry, unless the receiver was suicidal enough to leave himself open and try to attack. 

She had merged that move with her favorite one – mingled with the stabs were several snipped-off styles, like that rotating slash of Rand'eran's, that was cut off before its final thrust to slide into another of Tilarjen's favorite attacks, a close up, low arc of metal aimed to cripple the opponent by cutting up his kneecaps.

Entreri was not suicidal – he seemed frustrated that he could not use her wide opening but instead had to parry the seemingly random series of lightning-quick stabs and patchworked styles the best he could. Miraculously, unlike Winter whom had been injured when this had been tried on her, he did not get stabbed, ripped open, or impaled. But she had him between herself and the wall – he could not leap away. She could not possibly keep up the mad pace of the stabs and styles – and he could not parry this quickly much longer without tiring.

Winter apparently knew this, for she lunged again – then hooked Entreri up with her sword tip by his cloak pin and shirt front, lifting him up into the air, one hand on the hilt, the other further forward along the blade to better support the weight. The twins hissed in surprise _– she was that strong?_ But by the way Irr'liancrea was pulsing slightly, you knew that the sword was lending her power.

Certainly it surprised the human, whose well made boots dangled madly in the air. This rather fragile-looking female elf with so much strength? But with his feet off the ground, the sword tip so close to his throat and neither weapon long enough to reach Winter, he was pretty much helpless unless...

Unless he threw the dagger.

Winter and Entreri appeared to reach this same conclusion at the same time, and Entreri moved his dagger hand up and flicked his wrist, now holding the blade tip instead of the hilt. Winter snarled as she saw this and jerked up the sword forcefully, actually throwing Entreri vertically up a few inches into the air, then she flinched violently to the side and pushed the sword upwards even as the dagger came flashing in.

You did not see if it met its mark...but it clattered noisily on the dirty ground, and you saw to your horror that a thin ribbon of red stained one of its sharp sides. 

Entreri cried out harshly in pain as the sword stabbed through him, impaling him on its blue length, but Winter shook her weapon callously down and he landed hard on the filthy ground, blood spreading quickly in a crimson pool of a morbidly rich color, staining his clothing.

The twins and yourself ran up quickly to her. Winter was cursing, breathing heavily, and examining a long, deep gash at her ribs from the thrown dagger. Veldrin knelt down next to Entreri and touched his wound – he moaned in pain but did not have the energy to flinch away. Ssussun prudently kicked away his sword first before kneeling down.

"You didn't have to do that," Ssussun said accusingly, watching the human's labored breathing. "Now he's going to die. Your sword touched his heart! And before we had a good chance to speak with him, too..."

"He doesn't have to die," Winter said calmly. "Veldrin, can you make him sleep? It looks like I better heal him. If the two of you use this sort of spell it may attract a certain angel's attention."

"He's already unconscious," Veldrin poked Entreri's head. It weakly lolled to the side, bright, warm blood trickling down from the sides of his mouth, its coppery scent filling your nostrils and scent sight. He had probably bitten his lip or his cheek in pain, and you did not blame him – the crude red wound still spurted his lifeblood.

"Right." Winter held the bloody Irr'liancrea over Entreri, and began to chant in drow. You watched with morbid fascination as blood dripped down the blue shard's tip onto Entreri's clothing, but his wound slowly closed, and what you could see of it turned into a scar, then into a thin white line, then was finally gone completely.

"Done." She sighed, propping herself up on Irr'liancrea. "And the spell should have replaced all the blood he's lost. He'd just feel rather hungry in several hours...maybe at breakfast tomorrow. Stupid fellow fought a little _too _well. I did not intend to use full power."

"You cheated, too." Ssussun grinned now that Entreri had been healed. "You'd never have lifted him up with your own strength, to use that move."

"So?" Winter chuckled, then used the healing spell on herself to close up her wound. "It's not the method that counts, it's the winning. Now we find a nice, quiet place for him to wake up. Preferably someplace I can take a bath too...but I can't remember Asur's representative in this city."

"Check, then. He won't be waking up anytime soon." Veldrin's fingers stroked Entreri's cheek with unnecessary care.

"Why not leave him here?" Winter said wickedly.

"What, for anyone passing by to kill?" Ssussun said in mock horror.

"What, take him away for the two of you to play with?" Winter said with Ssussun's tone. The twins exchanged a guilty glance. "Morikan, the two of you are _disgusting_."

"Well, we _do_ have balor in our make-up." Veldrin said defensively.

"_Balor_, not succubi." Winter said dryly, but she began to trace symbols in the air that flared briefly in white before fading.

"Sometimes they're the same thing, just that balors are more powerful." Ssussun poked her tongue out at Winter. "So there."

"I give up." Winter sighed. "Right. Asur's place in Calimport is predictably near food. In this case, on the street with the Calimport idea of a bistro and streetside restaurants. Long way from here. Any ideas? It'd be very conspicuous if we carry him."

"Oh, we can make us inconspicuous," Veldrin said airily. "As to carrying...well, I think we can make him lighter."

"In what way?" Winter said suspiciously.

"It's a headache to explain," Ssussun said, holding up her hand. Entreri's dagger and sword flew towards her, then she caught hold of them and stood up. "Basically we make something else heavier for a while...like that brick over there, and consequently he becomes lighter. Logical, is it not?"

"Er..."

**

Something smelled very good from below, thick and spicy. The four of you sat in a large guest room, with Veldrin and Ssussun on either side of the bed and Winter lounging at the window seat, staring out over Calimport and playing with Entreri's jeweled dagger, turning it over and over in her hands.

You smelled cleaner than you had for days, and currently occupied the plush rug on the wooden-paneled floor. Entreri, with his dirty, bloodstained clothes changed to plain, clean robes, his swords and other weapons in a heap at Winter's feet, and wiped clean by the male helpers in the restaurant-cum-house that you were currently in, was still unconscious in the bed.

You remembered the expressions on the faces of the inhabitants of this building when Veldrin had taken off the don't-see-me enchantment in the kitchen of the place when Winter confirmed that everyone around them was of Sanctuary. After some diplomacy and showing off of her Loremaster cloak, all of you had been escorted into this room, lectured at, then left alone.

"Poor Taor," Winter chuckled to herself as she leaned against the wood frame of the window.

"What, the human-wolf in charge?" Veldrin grinned. She had a book in her hands, some sort of romance story with a lurid plot, borrowed from another human.

"Werewolf DarkMage...funny to see one working as a cook." Winter said thoughtfully, then her voice changed into a rough, commendable imitation of the heavily built man. "'What in N'avsh's name do you think you're doing, Loremaster? This is Entreri...pasha of one of the main guilds in the city!'"

"What did you reply?" Ssussun had pulled the small wooden table up to her. It had a black and white grid painted on it – you had stood up on your hind legs to look, and some ceramic pieces, discs of black and red. She was playing a game with herself...the discs clinking on the warm polished wood, and had tiny stacks at the side, one of black and one of red. There were, you noticed idly, twice as many black as red.

"I told him that well, it was better than having killed him in the alley when he attacked," Winter grinned.

"He attacked? _You_ attacked." Veldrin turned a page.

"He attacked after I did," Winter said glibly. "It is not my problem if what I said is interpreted another way, is it? Anyway, Taor was better inclined towards us after that. But we have to move him once he wakes up, and make sure he doesn't see this place or know what it stands for."

"Oh, that's no problem," Ssussun said cheerfully, and removed another black piece. "Should we wake him up?"

"Let him wake up by himself," Winter shrugged. With your more sensitive ears, you heard the rest of her words, "If he has any sense he won't wake up at all." Then she raised her voice again. "Ssussun, can we play chess instead?"

"Sure," Ssussun waved a hand, and the discs separated and morphed into strange looking figurines. Winter swung off the window seat and pulled up the only chair in the room, seating herself haphazardly on it. The pieces flew into place without either opponent touching them, and the game continued magically. A figurine of a horse's head turned into a tiny ceramic man on a horse which trotted, hooves clicking on wood, to another square.

Interested, you padded up to Winter and put your front paws on her seat, such that you could watch the game better. She patted you then looked to Ssussun. "Your go."

Eventually even Veldrin came over to look, though she made no comment as she peered over Ssussun's shoulder, leaning her weight on her sister.

Winter's pieces appeared to be spreading out into a pincer movement on Ssussun's 'king' – a piece with a cross on its head which when moving turned into a human in a heavy robe and a crown with a sceptre. Then one of Ssussun's 'pawns', a very insignificant piece, and hence rather unnoticed, reached Winter's end of the board and morphed into a 'queen', and began tearing into Winter's exposed back flank.

Veldrin clapped her hands in delight even as Winter grimaced and frantically attempted to defend against the queen. So absorbed were they in the game that it was you, looking up to shake away the crick in your neck, whom saw Entreri shift in the bed, stirring, waking up.

You growled automatically – they looked at you then followed your gaze – then Veldrin and Ssussun simultaneously lost interest in chess.

Entreri opened his eyes sharply, took stock of his situation, and sat up, fingers going up to his wound. He blinked when he realized it was not there any longer.

"I healed it," Winter said, leaning back in her chair. "Sorry about it. I did not intend to hurt you that badly."

"You could have died," Veldrin added unnecessarily. 

Entreri narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Now, that could take some explaining," Ssussun smiled slowly.

Winter sighed deeply. "Have fun," she told the twins with a weary air of indulgence, waved at them, then nodded at you. "Do you want to stay and watch, or come with me?"

Obviously go with her.

"Good. Let us leave my ah...sisters to their playmate, and go pursue an inquiry involving food." She stepped hurriedly towards the door, and you followed close on her heels. A backward glance: Entreri looking confused and suspicious at Winter's words, and the twins watching the two of you go with intensity befitting a big cat watching rothe.

Winter closed the door behind you, and started for the stairs, Entreri's dagger in her belt, Irr'liancrea sheathed in its scabbard on her back. When you glanced curiously at the dagger, she said, "Just so as not to give him any ideas. I believe a leech-dagger can kill demonesses."

They weren't going to...

"Oh yes they are," Winter smiled wickedly as she descended the worn staircase with its equally worn carpet. "Unless he is not human at all."

Disgusting.

"Who is to question what they do?" Winter shrugged. The two of you were in the large flagstoned kitchen which was rife with activity, voices and more importantly, the scent of various dishes.

Taor noticed her first and approached, still wearing an incongrous white apron over an old shirt and trousers of odd color ranging from gray to brown. His hands were covered in flour, and his amber eyes both anxious and suspicious. "Entreri?" he asked bluntly.

"Being entertained," Winter said innocently. "He won't be down for a while...down here, that is."

Taor's eyes widened, then narrowed as he considered the implications of Winter's words, caught the rather vicious innuendo, then began to laugh, gruffly at first, then uproariously.

"You friends won't be able to do naught, Loremaster. Entreri's a cold fish." Taor said when he calmed down.

"To use a bad metaphor, the temperatures of fish can be raised in the presence of heat," Winter said mildly. "And my...sisters are of tanar'ri stock."

"I thought so," Taor grunted, returning to his dough and kneading it expertly on the large table. "Sensed something about them. You ain't no sister. You look the same but you don't smell like them."

"No I am not," Winter admitted. "Now, my companion and I would be interested in food."

"Food's easily had if you pay," Taor said gruffly, all talk about Entreri and fish melting away under the intense gaze of Profit. You wondered idly about werewolves and what he was doing as a chef in a city on the surface world, then gave up about it.

"And payment's easily had since I have money," Winter smiled, patting her purse on her belt. It jingled, and it was Taor's turn to smile.

"Get yourself a seat then, Loremaster!" Taor waved at the tables in the restaurant proper outside. "Do you want a menu or our special today?"

"And what is your special?" Winter asked.

"Wild rabbit soup, bread and goat cheese, thin slices of beef rolled around slivers of pork seasoned with garlic and parsley, stuffed tomatoes..."

Winter laughed and held up her hands. "Sounds good! The special, then."

Taor continued as if he had not been interrupted, "And slices of fresh whiting cooked in light batter." His eyes twinkled. "Fish."


	16. Food

Chapter 16

Food

Winter took a table in the corner of the warmly furnished restaurant of wood and stone, where she began to attack her meal. A large bowl of some meaty stew was placed on the ground for you, and you too gratefully began to eat the hot food. 

You wondered, idly, when the sisters would be coming down.

"Oh, when they've finished," Winter chuckled, with her mouth full, then choked slightly on the food. "This beef is really good..."

You licked the bowl clean before Winter had even finished the whiting, and stretched under the table, head against one of the wooden legs, and looked covertly at the patrons. The tables were in a haphazard arrangement, simply put where there was space, and decorated only with a tablecloth, white. The seats were carved wood, with an underfed cushion, mostly a discolored maroon, on each. Well-lit and smelling not unpleasantly of candle smoke and different dishes, the restaurant had a delightful ambience.

The patrons were mostly merchants or those of average income – appropriately dressed but not richly so. This restaurant probably provided good food at a good cost, nothing fancy or expensive. The wine did not smell like those amazingly pricey types, nor the cheap ones...and other alcoholic beverages like whiskey were also in abundance.

Waiters, mostly humans, bustled around, whisking away cleaned dishes or delivering new ones, clearing tables, laying tables, collecting bills, escorting patrons in and out with equal efficiency. Though from your view you could only see the informally dressed legs of the waiters and the more varied clothing of the patrons.

A hand on the edge of your vision and a clattering sound – you turned to see a human waitress whom grinned, took your bowl, patted you and left, all in one apparent movement.

Drowsy you began to nod off, feeling slightly hot even in the relatively cool atmosphere (as compared to outside), then was awakened some time later by the heavy sharp scent of Taor, the werewolf. His scent was an odd mix of wolf and man, and not the best of either. From here you could see his flour-dusted trousers and worn shoes that smelled of spices spilled, no doubt, onto his kitchen floor. 

You turned to see Winter's crossed legs. From their casual position, she had probably finished her meal – this was confirmed from the strong smell of 'coffee', which she took after a meal, and the lighter scent of cheese and fresh-baked bread.

They were speaking wistfully of Sanctuary, in the normal conversational voices, which most people ignored unless actually eavesdropping...,and with such casual freedom that you suspected a sound shield.

"...and the Nexus pair are finally getting married in Spring." Winter was saying. "That was what Myurr said."

"Never met the pair, though Uktar who came back here a month ago said they're pretty nice people. He met them while wandering around back in Sword Hall. He's a sword warrior, did you know?" Taor's rough voice floated down.

"Would never have guessed it from the fellow. He was the one making the biscuits, was he not?"

"Yes, he's good with his fingers, and those almond stuff of his are good. You have to try some later."

"With pleasure. I take it he was looking for Zaknafein?"

"And at the new 'uns and at old friends. All the sword students adore this Zaknafein for some reason. Never met him myself."

"I'm never one for introductions, but the next time you go back to Sanctuary I can do so. How is Dark Magic?" Winter seemed curious.

"Fine...though I hardly practice it now. Have to go back every so often to make sure I'm not too out of practice, but otherwise it's enough to get by. What I do here does not really need its use in any way...being a werewolf is more of a bother, but so long as I do not show up every full moon in public it's okay."

"Hmm," Clinking of metal on ceramic – Winter was playing with her spoon. "Anything you would recommend to do in Calimport?"

"Keep a low profile and don't play with the guilds," Taor said promptly. "But Entreri..."

Winter chuckled, deep and rich. "Do not worry."

"If you say so, Loremaster," Taor said doubtfully.

"Call me Winter," Winter replied casually.

"Then you can hardly call me DarkMage." Taor remarked jovially.

"Do I call you Taor or by your DarkMage name, then?" Winter bantered.

"Taor would be fine. I always found the name Shadow Stalker a little unsuitable for one of my size," Taor laughed, a booming sound very unlike Winter's.

"Very well then," Winter said warmly. "Now, about Calimport..."

"There's drow in it somewhere," Taor said, "Your kin, I believe."

"Drow? In Calimport?" Winter sounded surprised, but not too surprised. "I thought their...representative here was Entreri."

"Entreri is involved?" Taor whistled. "That would explain how he could become chief of Basadoni guild so quickly. Bregan D'aerthe works strangely."

"Not so strangely," Winter was amused now, and slightly apprehensive. "Are they active here?"

"No. This is _only_ the surface, after all," Taor said with supreme mockery.

"Good," Winter said in relief.

"You're to do with Crenshinibon?" Taor asked.

"How did you know?" Surprise again.

"That thing on your back looks like Irr'liancrea to me." Taor replied confidently. "The Shard which is a Sword, no?"

"True. Do you know of Reima then?"

"No...who?"

"No matter. It is not a matter for Calimport," Winter said, then muttered, "Hopefully."

"Hopefully?" Taor's sharpened senses caught the word.

"If my...sisters do not make spectacles of themselves," Amused again. "Which I will not allow them to do so. I promised their...parent. And besides, I do not wish Bregan D'aerthe's eyes on me again so quickly. Is there anything worthwhile doing in Calimport?"

"If your worth be money, plenty. Entertainment as well, if it involves bloodshed or fighting or some sordid activity...I would have recommended taking an assassination job, but now that you are involved with Entreri that may or may not be out of the question."

A pause while Winter digested this. "We'd just have to see," she agreed. "Quests?"

"Nothing much. Usual for this place."

"Then why an outpost here?"

"The outpost here does not cover only Calimport. Together with the one in Baldur's Gate we have to cover the whole of the Sword Coast."

"I see," Winter paused again, then stood up, and you padded out from under the table. "Well, thanks," she grinned. "Can we have rooms here?"

"If you pay, and if you make no trouble," Taor stood up as well, towering over Winter. "Where are you going?"

"Out for a walk. I'd be back for supper," she stretched, waved, then headed out of the door. You followed quickly, weaving around waiters and patrons and finally out into the street.

The street was quite busy now, compared to when you had first come here, with patrons entering and leaving restaurants. Proprietors no longer stood outside their restaurants trying to invite passers-by in, they now were inside presumably cooking for their patrons. The smell of food was not as inviting on a full stomach, and you were able to view all those eating in the open air with complacency as the two of you strolled down the tree-lined streets.

"Smells much nicer," Winter smiled in the last blushing rays of the sun before sunset. You no longer viewed the burning orb with fear.

A breeze ruffled your fur and danced with Winter's mane of hair, teasing leaves up into the air. The city appeared to be gearing up for less savory night activities, if you understood Calimport correctly.

"City of beggars, thieves, killers and merchants," Winter agreed. "And other oddball creatures. Halflings, for one."

Halflings did not seem odd.

"Well, in my opinion then." 

The two of you wandered down to the end of the street, which then diverged to two alleys and a residential area. Winter, predictably, chose an alley, though thankfully the marginally less dirty and smelly one. "Taor told me there were shops somewhere ahead," she explained, "The Night Market I believe. This should be the shortest way."

It was, as you invoked your ability. What Night Market?

"I don't know. But it sounded interesting."

The alley snaked off into others, and the two of you would have become rather lost had you not decided to lead. But you knew this would have eventually led to trouble – five humans appeared out of where they had been...taking drugs, by the smell of it in a adjoining dead end, holding weapons, if not firmly.

"Purty elf," one of them said, voice slurred with whatever drug it was. Rheumy eyes peered at her over a long nose on an equally long and unshaven face. His companions were equally unsavory, in both meanings of the word – you did not fancy having to bite them.

"Back off and I'd let the lot of you live," Winter said easily, folding her arms.

"She'd let _us_ live?" another of them, with a ponytail of brown hair, nudged a third heavily. 

"D'ye hear that?" the fourth one agreed, and laughed, subsiding into coughs when Winter watched them pointedly.

"Right then. Me name's An..." the rest of what the first human said was cut off into a choked scream as Winter kicked him in the stomach and then elbowed him in the back of his neck.

You watched idly as Winter dispatched the rest with equal efficiency and without bloodshed, then nodded to you. You stepped over and on five groaning and semi-conscious heaps to her side.

You were surprised that she did not kill them.

Winter sheathed her blade after wiping it on one of the none-too-clean trousers of one of the supine humans. "Nothing I can do to them will equal what they will soon endure once they truly get addicted to that drug – I would think by the symptoms that it is an opiate." She looked grim, and you knew what she meant, but then she abruptly brightened up.

"Now, for the market."

**

Winter did not buy anything at the rather brightly lit and busy market, even if she did linger at the jewelry section and the clothing part, as well as watch the performing arts – dances and short plays – with every sign of avid enjoyment. 

The two of you took a more crowded route back to the restaurant, cloaked in an invisibility spell. Winter whistled one of the tunes from one of the performances as you strolled back casually, feeling peace – of all things – in this rather dangerous city. But compared to Menzoberranzan or Irinelaeran, Calimport was ordered and mild.

Dark sky above like rough velvet, with diamonds of tiny stars. Winter pointed out constellations and their names – the Dog which Dances, the Claw of Maera...alien names that slid off you. You did not think either formations fit their arcane names. The Dog which Dances looked more like a badly drawn spiral than any prancing canine.

The restaurant was more or less closed now at this late hour, the waiters cleaning up. Winter went upstairs, saw that the room door was still closed, heard the sounds of soft laughter emanating from behind, and shook her head in resignation. You wrinkled your nose at a not-unfamiliar smell, considering where you had been staying for most of your life, and Winter went back down to ask if she could have another room.

**

You woke early and yawned, stretching from the heap of pillows and spare sheets that Winter had put in a corner for you. Winter was already awake and dressed, if only just so. 

"Good morning, Kel," she said sleepily – she was not a true 'morning' person. You stretched again, luxuriously, then shook yourself and padded to the door, Winter walking behind.

Winter sighed when she saw that the twin's room door was still closed, if the sounds now that you could catch was that of peaceful slumber, three different breaths.

Below the kitchen was gearing up for breakfast. Taor smiled at Winter and waved her outside. She murmured a greeting, went to the table she had sat in last night and slumped down, to all appearances falling asleep again.

The waitress appeared, all smiles, putting pastry, bread and cheese, jam, butter, eggs and sausage on the table expertly without spilling anything, then put the bowl down on the ground for you. It was of dubious, hot content but you ate anyway – your tongue differentiated scrambled eggs, sliced sausage and ham.

When you finished and the bowl was cleared, Winter had begun to pick at the bread, delicately spreading slivers of goat cheese and butter on the toasted buns, then eating them carefully, muttering about crumbs, but looked as relaxed as you had seen her for a long time. You curled up under her chair and rested your muzzle on the ground.

The twins chose to wander in at this idyllic moment, patting you and greeting Winter brightly with their normal exuberance. Winter sighed as they helped themselves to the bread and cheese and waited for their breakfasts.

"The two of you possess a most unholy cheer early in the morning. And what time did you sleep last night?" she said, sounding amused.

Veldrin shrugged, then clapped her hands as breakfast arrived. "Oh, this smells simply divine."

"Entreri?" Winter asked, reaching for another bun.

Ssussun paused. You could only see her fork, waving aimlessly in the air. "Very..."

"I meant where is he now."

"Asleep last we saw," Ssussun said with her mouth full. From your angle, you could only see her legs and not her expression, which you could be sure would be smugly complacent. "Never you mind, we hid the weapons."

"Good," Winter grinned. "I'm full, and I don't want to fight him now. Besides, I may kill him this time." She did not wear the Name blade, but Irr'liancrea rested in a free scabbard against the chair.

"'Twill be _such_ a waste," Veldrin said wickedly.

Winter sighed again. You crept out of under the chair to accept tidbits from Veldrin and Ssussun...and was crunching on some of the bread when you saw Entreri – with your mouth full, a growl would sound a little strange. You settled for nudging Winter.

She looked down, then up at the kitchen entrance. Entreri stood there, looking around casually in the plain robes, with and oddly neat appearance, then approached cautiously when the twins waved at him, as if approaching a venomous snake.

"Good morning," Winter smiled sweetly. He murmured something grudgingly polite in return, and the twins cajoled and herded him into a chair – between them, naturally. Winter pushed the bread basket towards him, but he declined to take any. Instead, he gave you the impression – from next to Veldrin, at least - of trying to watch all of you at the same time.

Veldrin winked at Winter, turning her face such that Entreri would not see the rather vulgar movement, then the twin's 'campaign' began again – they began by persuading, with sly quips and entreating, Entreri to eat. As he did so rather warily, they then rather unashamedly took every opportunity to touch him – an accidental brush of hands while reaching for bread, an accentuating gesture while making a point...

Winter, from what you could see, was silently laughing inside. Inclining her head down to hide her face from Entreri, you saw a wicked, wicked smile plastered on it.

Entreri knew he was a figure of amusement for Winter and possibly the twins, and knew exactly what was happening – first he looked suspicious, then resigned, then finally started his own revenge by taking a page from the twins' book – 'welcoming' the touching, his hand lingering, with more smiles.

The twins seemed startled by this sudden change in attitude, and Winter, more amused. 

"You fight very well," he finally said to Winter, whom had kept out of the conversation so far. He _was_ eating more than a human normally did for a morning meal, as Winter had predicted.

She blinked, realized he was addressing her, then settled back in her chair. "I had a good teacher," she said, then amended, "Several good teachers."

"Zaknafein Do'Urden?" Veldrin stated more than asked.

"We taught each other," Winter corrected, then smiled at Entreri, whom had, in shock, dropped his butter knife with a muffled thump of metal onto the table. "Why, what is the matter?"

"Do'Urden?" Entreri frowned. From the sound of metal rasping on cloth-covered wood, you guessed he picked up the blunt knife again.

"He prefers to be known as Zaknafein, but yes. Some sort of House he once belonged to, I would think." Winter said, apparently oblivious to Entreri's growing astonishment.

"I heard he had died," Entreri said, recovering his normal cold composure.

"He did," Winter said succinctly. "Twice. He's trying not to do so a third time, and doing very well I would say."

"Where?"

"Why should I tell you?" Winter said mildly, if a little rudely. "Pry it out of my sisters if you will."

Entreri narrowed his eyes but did not ask further, a good decision because all he would have achieved would have been a rather bad headache and a smug Winter.

"You are the oldest?" he changed the subject smoothly.

"By a little," Winter 'admitted'. "Is it so very obvious?"

"W...that is, Niar's only a minute or so the eldest," Veldrin pointed out, changing Winter's name for caution's sake and playing along.

"Is that so," Entreri murmured. Like you did, he silently compared the relative 'maturity' of the twins and Winter.

"Be nice," Ssussun chided. Entreri raised his eyebrow a fraction, still rather off-balance (and rightfully so), then his eyes widened slightly.

"Stop that," Winter said, without looking at the twins.

"Stop what?" They asked innocently, in chorus.

"You know." Winter eyed first Veldrin, then Ssussun with a hard blue stare.

Veldrin pouted and Ssussun appeared, from your angle, to have slumped ungraciously in her chair, but Entreri looked more comfortable, enough to reach for another bun.

"Will you be in Calimport long?" Entreri asked Winter, fending off Ssussun's attempts to play with his robe. 

A certain resignation about him – you thought that some time not long ago, another Artemis Entreri would have attempted to kill both the twins for this sort of daring. But then again...maybe not. The twins certainly appeared relatively harmless next to Winter – they carried their imitation Irr'liancrea swords as if they were toys, while Winter carried hers as if she knew how to use it (which was perfectly the case). That was exactly what swords were to them, but they were, underneath their playful attitude, as dangerous as Winter was. Perhaps Entreri sensed that as well.

"Maybe," Winter smiled. "If I...we find it amusing enough to linger. I have not shown my sisters the night market."

"Market?" Ssussun asked, more for continuing the conversation than out of any real interest.

"Mostly food, jewelry and miscellaneous," Winter shrugged. "Mostly jewelry, that is, and tawdry trinkets at that. We can create better ones."

"Create." Entreri repeated, and frowned. "You have such magical power?"

"Creating is easy," Veldrin said, just as Ssussun said, "No problems with it."

To demonstrate her point she put up her hand, palm facing up, and air rippled above it, forming a translucent bubble that rotated slowly, about the size of her fist which expanded to the size of a small melon, then slowly began to reshape itself, four legs and a head and a tail, then the head flattened slightly and the legs elongated, and colors began to tint the glass-like form.

When she was finished, a glass kitten of normal size with eyes of kitten blue and black frosted glass fur with transparent paws and tail tip peered out from over Veldrin's fingertips, and mewled. Ssussun laughed, and clapped her hands.

Entreri blinked, rubbed his eyes reflexively, and then glanced at Winter as if for reassurance. 

Winter did not seem the least surprised at all, though she probably was. Creating something out of nothing was, she had said before, one of the hardest magics to accomplish, and to have done so like Veldrin, as if it was just a cheap trick...but instead of some exclamation of amazement she simply sipped her coffee and said tartly, "I hope you'd put it away when you've finished with it."

Veldrin put it carefully on the table, where it stumbled around with endearing clumsiness. "Can't I keep it?"

"Take care of it, then," Winter replied firmly. "I prefer flesh and blood...pets." She whistled to you, and you obligingly put your front paws on her chair and stood up to look over the table. It had mostly been cleared, but Winter fed you a bit more bread, keeping with the image of 'pet', and patted you, then pushed the kitten away from her cup of coffee.

"A wolf?" Entreri asked mildly, pretending, for some reason, that he had not already seen you.

"_Nigouar_, Underdark wolf," Winter smiled. You licked her ear, and she batted at your muzzle. Then she frowned, and drew out a necklace from the folds of her robe – a silver link necklace with a single sapphire stone, roughly cut, as its pendant. The sapphire glowed slightly, as if with a life of its own.

"Excuse me," Winter said curtly, getting up and walking into the kitchen. You followed quickly, wondering what was the matter. Behind you, sensing that something was wrong, the twins immediately engaged Entreri skillfully in another conversation.

When safely in the noise of the kitchen she put a finger to the sapphire and spoke in irritated drow. "What is wrong _now_, Rai'gy?"

Rai'gy's agitated voice, strained with worry, issued from the sapphire as clearly as if he had been standing in the room. 

"It's Jarlaxle. He has disappeared."


	17. Unexpected

Chapter 17

Unexpected

"Disappeared?" Winter frowned. Several of the kitchen helpers stared at her, but Taor waved them back to their businesses. She smiled a harried smile at him and made a wild gesture at the doorway to the restaurant proper – he nodded firmly and barked an order. Two helpers pulled a heavy curtain over the doorway.

"_Xas_! We have reason to believe Baenre took him..."

"Baenre?"

"He was last seen by bodyguards heading into the compound..."

"Rai'gy! Stop! Now, calm down, though that may be asking too much of you. I am going somewhere safer to open a...window. Then you tell me."

"_Xas...xas_." 

Winter hurried up the staircase, then fairly flew into the room, bolting the door behind you then closing the windows before sitting down on the bed and speaking precisely in the tongue she used to cast most of her spells. She ended off by pointing at the large mirror over the bare dressing table provided in the guestroom.

Her reflection blurred, then darkened to look into a room – one of Jarlaxle's offices, Rai'gy's rather haggard features, the captains, and Kimmuriel, all looking under pressure.

"Winter?" Rai'gy asked uncertainly, not connecting the female drow in blue and white robes with the outlandish looking elf which she was now.

Winter looked down at herself automatically, then smiled briefly. "Sorry, another disguise. Now, what exactly appears to be wrong?"

"_Bel'la Lloth *_. Some time ago..."

"How long?" Winter cut in, all business.

"About the second shade of red to the last of yellow," Berg'inyon replied immediately.

"Six hours," Winter muttered to herself. "Well? What did he do?"

"Jarlaxle on Matron Triel Baenre's invitation visited House Baenre...he is asked there often enough on business so we did not suspect very much. However he did warn us – since the sightings had started on House Baenre he had not been called there, so he was...wary." Rand'eran said. "I cannot recall his exact words..."

"I can," Kimmuriel said, frowning. "'Baenre must have some hidden agenda...if I do not return when Narbondel turns to the second shade of green...then it would be a code _lael_ *.'"

Winter knew what that meant. "When the head of Bregan D'aerthe...falls into enemy hands. Morikan. And why call me? Bregan D'aerthe should be quite capable of prying him out of it."

"Not so simple," Kimmuriel said hastily. "There is some sort of...shield on House Baenre. I cannot feel the thoughts of anyone inside, nor can any magic of mine...or those of Bregan D'aerthe penetrate. Crenshinibon appears to have shut down, or something similar – it is on Jarlaxle's desk now, like any bit of useless rock. I think it is waiting for something."

"Waiting for what we would have to find out later, I would think," Winter sighed, then said bluntly, "So, is Jarlaxle dead?"

The drow in the mirror looked uncomfortable. Finally Rand'eran spoke up. "We...know not."

"Huh." Winter sighed. "Oh very well. I will come over. But if Jarlaxle is dead, as far as I am concerned – that is the end of the matter as it is."

Kimmuriel and the captains looked as though they would protest, but Rai'gy nodded wearily. "How long?"

"What color now?"

"Sixth of orange."

"Seventh of orange, at the most." Winter said, and waved a hand – the mirror blurred to show her disguised reflection. Winter took a deep, long breath, then exploded into action, grabbing the Name blade and buckling it on to her belt, began to cast a spell, stopped, swore in common, then flung open the door and took the stairs down four at a time.

She stalked quickly out to the restaurant to the table, and the twins abruptly became serious once they took a look at her expression.

"What?" Veldrin asked immediately.

Winter opened her mouth, glanced at Entreri, then spoke in rapid-fire drow. "Jarlaxle has probably fallen into Baenre's hands – may be dead, may be alive. I have to get him out if he is still alive – promised Rai'gy. Now, are you two coming or do you want to stay here?"

Entreri raised an eyebrow, probably understanding the word 'Jarlaxle', but not the rest. "You know Bregan D'aerthe?" he asked cautiously.

Winter ignored him. "If you are coming, then hurry. We have to leave _now_." Then she swept back towards the kitchen. You had to trot to keep up with her, but you turned back once to look for the twins.

Veldrin and Ssussun dove on Entreri, kissing him on either cheek, murmured hasty farewells, waved wildly, then dived after Winter. On the table, the glass kitten froze, now an inanimate, dead object. You made a wolfish chuckle at the rather stunned-looking human before loping after them. He would be rather confused for a while...but you could not be bothered to think about him now.

Only a human.

Winter tossed a small bag of coins at Taor, who caught it, waved at her, and then jerked his head in the general direction of Entreri. She shrugged, said, "Just do not damage him too much," and virtually leaped upstairs.

"Damage?" Veldrin looked suspicious, pausing at the foot of the steps.

"Selective mindwipe. Do not worry, ladies," Taor wiped his hands on his apron, then opened a cabinet and took out several implements quite obviously not for cooking. They did not inspire confidence, however.

The twins looked at each other, shrugged in concert, placing whatever was bothering Winter on a higher scale of importance over what would happen to Entreri, and then went up after her, you following as well as you could. 

Wolves did not handle steps very easily.

Winter was already well into the stages of the portal spell as the twins finished their quick packing. A section of the wall blurred away to show Jarlaxle's office, and she stepped into it. You followed – the rather disconcerting feeling of disorientation pulled at you, but you were used to it now – and the twins leaped out after you. 

Winter turned around quickly and tied off the spell, causing the portal to dissipate, then blinked rapidly to try and adjust her eyes back to the infrared range. You did the same.

Rai'gy raised his eyebrows at the twins as Winter rubbed her face with her hands. When she put them down, she wore her true face, to you, an improvement over wearing a copy of the twin's. 

"Oh," she said distractedly when she noticed his inquiring glance. "Rai'gy...these two are Veldrin," she waved at Veldrin, who bowed slightly, "And Ssussun," Ssussun mimicked her sister's gesture. "They're demon-angels and friends. Don't ask. Now, what did you plan to do?"

Rai'gy and the others looked a little taken aback, but Rand'eran, predictably, recovered first. "We have to see if he is still alive..."

"Yes...where is Crenshinibon?"

Berg'inyon pointed wordlessly at the empty desk. The shard lay on it, with only the faintest of light emanating from it. Winter stalked over and drew Irr'liancrea then brought the sword down in a blur of blue. Irr'liancrea screeched audibly to a halt several inches from the shard, as if encountering some sort of shield.

"What in Lloth's name are you doing?" Rai'gy started forward.

Winter sheathed Irr'liancrea, then turned around. "Crenshinibon is not 'dead' or inactive – just waiting, as you aptly put it. But for what, it would not tell me. So, we need to find if Jarlaxle is alive...Kel, can you sense him?"

You silently invoked your gift, reaching out – feeling some sort of resistance, such that you could not pinpoint his exact location, but more like a locus where he could be in. But he was alive.

"Kel tells me he is alive," Winter said irritably. "_Iblith_. Now I have to keep my promise."

"Winter!" Rai'gy chided, but they all looked relieved. The twins, wisely, stayed in the proverbial background, just listening, keeping unusually quiet instead of creating their special kind of havoc. 

"Any idea what Reima specifically wants?" Winter asked, fingers absently playing with a strand of her hair.

"_Nav_! We do not even know what this Reima is," Tilarjen said, looking remarkably as though he had been a captain of Bregan D'aerthe all his life instead of only for a few months. He was as concerned as the others.

"Veldrin and Ssussun can explain that better than I can," Winter waved the twins forward. "Now...Rai'gy, Kimmuriel? We will both try again to counter this barrier. If it does not work – Veldrin and Ssussun will have to try with us. If that still does not work..."

"Yes?" Kimmuriel asked.

"Then I will think of something," Winter said succinctly. "Come."

They did not need your help, so you stayed with the twins while Winter herded the psionist out of the door, Rai'gy following.

Veldrin clapped her hands briefly. "Right. Now, Reima is what is popularly termed an angel, but a better term is a minion of Order."

"Order?" Tantras'nen repeated.

Ssussun sighed. "This could be longer than I thought."

"We have time," Veldrin pointed out. "Very well. The multiverse as you know it has two broad bands of type."

"Three," Ssussun corrected.

"Oh yes. The bands are Order, vulgarly known as Good, Chaos, also known as Evil, and Neutrality. Usually a universe by itself is balanced with evil and good, some worlds more evil, some good, some neutral...like this one. Which means it is balanced. Crenshinibon is an 'evil' shard, Irr'liancrea a 'good' one...am I losing you?" Veldrin frowned prettily at the captains.

"What? No, go on," Berg'inyon urged.

"A long time ago when this world was first made," Ssussun continued, "On another...dimension they were all part of one shard, which was of high enchantment. It was filled with too much magic – so it cracked rather neatly into bits. The two largest bits are what you call Crenshinibon and Irr'liancrea – the other smaller ones are 'normal', non-sentient artifacts of some power but quite insignificant to us now. Storytelling is fun, is it not?"

"Hush," Veldrin snickered. "Anyway, the shards in the beginning were more powerful than they were today, and they did not need...wielders. In their wars against each other they destroyed whole species, mountains, boiled seas, all that. Until finally their destructive power began to affect other...dimensions, and though Chaos did not truly mind this, Order did, so they sent one of their higher powered...officers, known also as angels, down to take care of it."

"I cannot recall his name now, but what he did do was effective – he made limitations on the shards, then finally threw them across time and space – both ended up here. We believe he had bad aiming, because he could not possibly have really wanted them to end up on another place which had life...but perhaps in those days there was no sign of sentient life, and hence he thought it was safe," Ssussun shrugged. "Who cares, as mother says, what the minions of Order do."

"For a long time both shards were buried far away from any possible wielders, except for the occasional time when a traveler would stumble on one, but those sort of times were either quickly curtailed by divine intervention or...something else, usually action helped by the opposing shard. But in any case, both shards wanted power, and both needed wielders. Both countered each other, so neither truly did great damage." Veldrin paused for breath.

Ssussun picked up after her, "Irr'liancrea ended up with Winter, Crenshinibon...now, with Jarlaxle, after causing a lot of havoc since Irr'liancrea was not here to counter it. This has recaptured the attention of Order...and they are sending a different 'angel' down to do something about it. His name is Reima, and he has a worse attitude than the first one."

"What will he do?" Rand'eran asked bluntly.

"Who knows what the minions of Order do?" Veldrin quipped. "He may try to destroy the shard. Or he may not. Or he may throw it."

"What is he doing with Baenre?"

"We have no idea," Ssussun said shortly.

"What does this...Winter have to do with it? Reima's sightings began as she came to Menzoberranzan..."

"Speculations, speculations. Maybe the reappearance of the second shard in the hands of a race popularly known for their evil...alignment forced their hand, maybe our appearance here did." Veldrin opened her arms wide in a gesture of indifference.

"You?" Tilarjen repeated. The captains looked them up and down, probably wondering what two elves of strange coloration had done to attract the attention of powers higher than the gods on this world.

"Us," Ssussun agreed. "As Winter said...we are demon-angels, the offspring of a balor and an angel. Yes, we know it sounds deliciously scandalous, but Order thinks it is an...abomination. Amusing. Perhaps Reima is here for us. Perhaps for both. Perhaps he does not even know of our presence here at all. Is not speculation exciting?"

"No," Berg'inyon muttered.

"Oh, come on," Ssussun glided closer, her eyes speculative again. Berg'inyon took a step back, unconsciously, and you let out a wolfy sigh.

Here we go again.

Winter chose that moment to show up at the doorway. "If the two of you have finished?" she drawled.

The twins pouted. "Can this wait?" Ssussun said plaintively, nearly in reach of Berg'inyon.

"No. Come here." Winter swept off without turning back to see if they would follow. The twins grimaced.

"Don't go away," Veldrin leveled a sultry smile at the captains, then darted after Winter, Ssussun following her twin, though in her case, instead of a smile, she winked mischievously.

You wondered, absently, if you should follow or stay, and sat down on your haunches uncertainly. The captains watched you warily, then as you gave no hostile intentions began to talk amongst themselves.

"..._vel'uss _phuul _nindyn draa *_..."

"..._abbilen d'Winter *_..."

"..._ssinssrigg, Rand'eran?_"

"_...dosstan izil al, Berg'inyon_..."

You gave up. The twins had done their 'work' – the captains were not even talking about Jarlaxle now, or anything truly worth listening to. You followed their scent out of the door, leaving the captains behind you.

They had gone down the corridor, through the uneasily murmuring soldiers, all of whom probably already knew that Jarlaxle was missing – Bregan D'aerthe believed in sharing information - and eventually into a room you identified after some squinting at the nameplate as Kimmuriel's. The ornate door was slightly ajar, so you nudged it wider and padded in.

Around a round table sat Kimmuriel, then clockwise Rai'gy, then Winter, then the twins, all wearing near-identical expressions of concentration.

There was no crackling light or flamboyant display of magic, but you had the impression that they were all trying their best to break whatever barrier there was. On the table before her lay Irr'liancrea, hilt pointing towards her, pulsing gently. You trotted over and sat down beside her.

In a while you took a nap, leaning against her stone chair, and dreamt vaguely of Calimport and food.

When you woke up, they were still in the same positions, so you padded over to the door where soldiers were gawking and nudged it closed, firmly, then returned to your position and took another nap, dreaming of spices and Winter fighting, and the twin's laughter.

You rolled awake eventually and sighed – still no change. You were wondering how much time had passed, and began to consider the consequences of licking them awake. Magic always seemed to take so awfully long, physical methods appearing in comparison to be safer and more efficient.

After what seemed like eternity, with all five of them sitting there like puppets with their strings cut, Winter straightened, then the twins, who stretched aching backs, then Rai'gy and Kimmuriel.

"There's no hope, is there?" Kimmuriel said in a dead voice, tousling his hair absently. "Not even when we combined power..."

"Not of plucking him out of there, no," Winter squared her shoulders. "They must push him out themselves...those in Baenre."

"It'd take too long to infiltrate the House..." Rai'gy began.

"She meant members of Baenre." Veldrin explained.

"I believe Lloth is aiding them," Rai'gy murmured, slumped in his chair. "She did not answer me."

"Or maybe she is just watching," Winter suggested.

Rai'gy did not answer – he just closed his eyes and breathed heavily.

"What if Crenshinibon..."

"_Nav_," Winter said quickly. "I will not work with it even if it agreed to."

"Why?" Kimmuriel stared at her.

"Because Irr'liancrea would not, and if it does not want to work with Crenshinibon, then neither will I." Winter said firmly.

"But if it did work with us..." Rai'gy began.

"Rai'gy..." Winter warned.

"If it worked with us," he continued in a rush, "Would we succeed?"

Winter stared at him, then at Irr'liancrea, then back at him. "Yes...yes it may. There should be enough power. But why speak of the impossible? Find another option, Rai'gy."

"Just a suggestion," he mumbled.

"And not a good one," she said sharply, then softened. "All right, my apologies. But it simply _will_ not happen."

"I wonder if Mother will help," Ssussun said suddenly.

"Morikan, yes, I could ask." Winter straightened.

"Mother?" Kimmuriel said blankly, rolling the word, _ilhar_, in his mouth as if it were foreign.

"A balor of considerable power," Winter explained. She put her hand on Irr'liancrea. "There is no use for disguise now, is there?" she said gently.

Irr'liancrea pulsed into life, and spoke, something you had not heard it do for years. "I wouldst think so," it 'said', wryly. Kimmuriel made a startled noise, but Rai'gy merely opened his eyes again, wearily. "Mayhap this is a trap for thee."

"I can pick it first then," Winter shrugged. "Open a window to Rael, would you? And knock first. I do not want to see what sort of depraved activity he is engaged in."

"_Uk_?" Kimmuriel repeated the word 'he', apparently not connecting it with _ilhar_, but the twins – and Winter – ignored him.

"Thou art aware this is against mine better judgement?"

"Yes. Hurry."

A 'mirror' twirled into being more quickly than Winter could have created one, clearing to show a black marble backdrop and a human man, decently dressed in dark robes of interminable color and with hair of deep red. Cat-like eyes stared out at Winter. 

"What?" Raelmaztigar snapped. "Winter, I'd have you know I am engaged in something of a delicate nature now, and I do not appreciate..."

"Mother, we may need your help," Ssussun said before Winter could reply.

Rael appeared to soften a little, but he continued firmly, "I know exactly what is happening now over at your side, and no, you do not need my help. It is Order's right to deal with shards. If I were to go over now it would breach several treaties...not to mention create all sorts of bother about balors wandering around the Prime Material Plane and members of the Council interfering with mortal affairs."

"Keep in mind, Winter – whether this Jarlaxle dies or not, whether this Crenshinibon gets a new owner or not – this is insignificant to me as a rat's death would be to you. Now have the courtesy to go away."

"New owner?" Winter, sharp-eared, grasped that fact first.

Rael opened his mouth, then shut it again quickly. "I have said too much already." He turned to regard the twins. "Veldrin and Ssussun, it is still not too late to return home. I will not be free to come after you."

"We're staying with Winter," Veldrin said firmly.

Rael raised an eyebrow.

"Once we go home, you may never let us come back anyway," Ssussun agreed, pragmatically.

"Quite," Rael muttered, then said irritably. "Winter!"

"Okay, okay," Winter made a gesture, and the window disappeared. She muttered to herself, "Well, that was not too much of a help."

"Who was that?" Kimmuriel managed finally.

"A balor." Winter replied.

"A balor?" Rai'gy repeated, in disbelief.

"Rai'gy, if I wanted someone to repeat everything I said I would have purchased one of those colorful birds known as parrots while I was in Calimport. Be quiet. Now, about this Crenshinibon getting a new owner...that can only happen if Jarlaxle willingly gives ownership to another. So he would be kept alive...though he may wish he were dead, if I judge Baenre correctly," Winter said curtly. Rai'gy groaned.

"So now what?" Ssussun said, just as bluntly.

Winter closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. "Is there a totally secure place?"

"Jarlaxle's office in the Clawrift," Kimmuriel said promptly, then just as promptly asked, "Why?"

"I think I may have to try the same trick I pulled many decades ago." Winter smiled, and it was not a very nice smile – it was full of old pain, and new, grim determination and knowledge that there was no other choice, no other way she could see to turn.

The twins and Kimmuriel looked uncomprehending, as you felt so.

Only Rai'gy appeared to know what she meant. He half-started from his chair in shock and denial. "_Nav_, Winter! You cannot..."

Winter rose from her seat, the same brittle smile wreathing her features. "Oh yes, I can. It is time for Reima...and his allies...to learn why I am called 'Winter'..."

Then she misquoted what you recognized as one of the main (more popular) holy texts of Lloth, though her words did not seem less grim because of it.

"Let the season of soft snow and harsh cold consume Menzoberranzan."

--

Language:

__

Bel'la Lloth: Thank Lloth

__

Lael: Eight

__

vel'uss phuul _nindyn draa_: who _are_ those two

__

abbilen d'Winter: friends of Winter


	18. Snow and Ice

Chapter 18

Snow and Ice

Kimmuriel, treating the idea of _walking_ to the Clawrift with disdain, merely portalled the lot of you there with calculated indifference. Once in the extraplanar office, Rai'gy turned to regard Winter, who busied herself by clearing Jarlaxle's table, then sat down in one of the stuffed chairs experimentally – though not the mercenary leader's.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" he asked, for the fifth time.

"I keep my word. Unless you have a better idea?" Winter snuggled down into her seat, apparently found it comfortable enough, then stood up and drove half of Irr'liancrea into the table near the side closest to her. No one protested.

"_Nav_..."

"There we go, then." Winter sat down again, then paused. "I will, of course, shield Bregan D'aerthe and certain other...areas of the city. Call back all the soldiers, if you will, or I will not be responsible."

"That was not what concerns me. Winter, the last you tried this, you nearly died." Rai'gy snapped.

"Let us hope this time does not take that long, then." Winter replied calmly. "Kimmuriel, can you keep an eye on House Baenre? When it looks like they would release Jarlaxle, get some medical aid here." The unspoken phrases: _Because Lloth-rituals involving healing just may conveniently not work. And I may not be in a good enough shape to heal him myself._

Kimmuriel looked puzzled but nodded.

"We'd help," Veldrin said. "I think we know what you are about to do..."

"Good luck," Ssussun nodded.

"Oh, and Rai'gy?" Winter began, eyeing the twins.

"Yes?" Rai'gy asked.

"Keep an eye on these two. They may be quite dangerous if they wish to be." Winter said dryly. "Veldrin and Ssussun...considering the structure of Bregan D'aerthe, I hope you would amuse yourselves safely."

"Oh, we will," Veldrin said cheerfully. "Do not worry. You can do it."

"Thank you." Winter acknowledged, patted you, put her hands on the armrests, then closed her eyes, as if falling asleep. Irr'liancrea pulsed more brightly, then settled into a steady rhythm.

Nothing else appeared to happen, and you thought about the general non-flashiness of Winter's magic as opposed to those by street magicians or that in cheap tales.

"What is supposed to happen?" Kimmuriel asked finally, impatiently. Winter appeared not to hear – indeed, she now seemed frozen into a statue, her breathing dangerously slow, but even, in time with Irr'liancrea's pulses.

"Go outside and you'd find out," Rai'gy stalked in a tight circle. "Lloth. The last time she held out for nine...Narbondel cycles she took six months to recover properly. Six months!"

"Ah, but now she is stronger," Veldrin said confidently.

"Still..."

"I know," Ssussun comforted.

"What is supposed to happen?" Kimmuriel repeated.

"Open a window over a random place in Menzoberranzan." Rai'gy suggested absently. "Though it should take a few hours for the full effect to start, so going outside would be better as a demonstration."

"Then we go," Kimmuriel said decisively, grasping hold of Rai'gy's shoulder and half-dragging him out of the office. The twins followed, chattering to themselves, and you did as well.

Outside you looked over an immense chasm, the Clawrift. Peering down into the darkness, you could not see the bottom of the deep, sheer-sided drop. Nothing else seemed to be different – except that the temperature was much, much lower and seemed to be dropping steadily. The elves' and the twins' breath made white clouds of condensation in the chilly air.

"Is this it?" Kimmuriel said, eyes wide, rubbing his cold hands together absently. "This will rescue Jarlaxle?"

"Wait till it starts snowing," Rai'gy said sourly. "I know not what other...plan Winter is going to use with this...but I suspect it would be the same as the last. Let us go back in."

"Snow?" Kimmuriel repeated the alien word, blankly.

"You will find out."

**

Back at the first office you had entered, Rai'gy frowned slightly as the twins approached the captains. In a remarkably short time, all of them were chatting happily.

He glanced at you – you shrugged the best you could, and his mouth twitched slightly as if in humor.

Finally Berg'inyon voiced the underlying question, "What exactly is Velve...that is, Winter about to do?"

"First she would freeze up the city, then the...blizzards will start," Rai'gy said sourly. "Ah. Can one of you spread the message that all soldiers undercover in Menzoberranzan Houses are to return at once to the closest Bregan D'aerthe post. We can only hope that this does not last long enough for the situation to become overcrowded."

Rand'eran nodded and left.

"Freeze?" Tilarjen mused. "That may be one thing that Menzoberranzan is not prepared for."

"We can only hope it works." Tantras'nen said mildly.

"Oh, it will," Veldrin said with endearingly careless confidence.

"How will this...bring about Jarlaxle's release?" Berg'inyon inquired.

"Trust Winter," Ssussun shrugged.

"Can we?" Kimmuriel said, bluntly.

Rai'gy nodded. "She will keep her word."

"And you are not so different," Kimmuriel responded. "Rai'gy, at any moment you are about to collapse. Go and rest."

"Watch your own words," Tantras'nen smiled. Indeed, both Kimmuriel and Rai'gy looked very, very weary. They too, left the office, presumably to get a bit of rest.

You glanced at the twins, whom were skillfully dividing attention between the three remaining ex-weapon masters. Shaking your head, you padded out of the room. Perhaps there was some place here you could sleep...or perhaps you could try Rai'gy's place. He did not seem like a bad sort.

The corridors were familiar to you, and you remembered old times here with clarity, some good and some bad...but you did not truly miss it, like you hardly ever missed Irinelaeran any longer except when on some unpleasant escapade with Winter.

_Winter_...you wondered why she had used this apparently self-destructive method in the past. Six months to recover was a long time, though perhaps not too long to your...original species. What sort of trouble had she gotten into that needed this rather drastic measure to pry her out of?

Whatever it was, possibly only Rai'gy knew now, and he probably would not tell you even if you knew how to ask him in a way that he would understand.

**

As Winter had said, Bregan D'aerthe headquarters and posts kept their normal temperature, while that of the outside continued to plummet. Rai'gy, Kimmuriel and the captains weighed potential loss of the lives of soldiers over the potential loss of trust from the Houses they had infiltrated, then called all outpost soldiers back.

In an hour or so after you had rested there was an excited buzz in the building, and you saw that around every window there seemed to be a small knot of gesticulating and pointing soldiers. 

With some shoving and nudging you managed to get to the closest window. It was shut, the glass slightly grimy, but you could see the outside perfectly clearly. 

White dots appeared to be falling down from somewhere above, as if from the ceiling of the great cavern, teased past the window by an unnatural breeze. The word 'snow' was repeated often, and with some hoisting you managed to raise yourself high enough to look down at the street.

Most of the snow was, so far, still melting or turning into a muddy slush on the ground, but it was still falling, and apparently getting ever so gradually heavier.

From here, it looked more pretty than dangerous, and you wondered how Winter thought this could stop a city, having never seen snow before.

You retreated out of the room, greeted by a few soldiers, and wondered if you should find the twins. Deciding that by now they had probably come up with ways to amuse themselves, you went to wander around Bregan D'aerthe.

When you had re-inspected most of the rooms and was growing steadily bored with the entire business, you returned to one room which you knew had a window.

By now the soldiers, also bored by watching the snow fall, and started to play cards with themselves or similar gambling games on most available spaces. Rai'gy, Kimmuriel and the captains had brought Bregan D'aerthe to a grinding halt at a suggestion from Winter, and you thought of trust.

It was definitely snowing more heavily outside now, vision nearly obscured by the apparently continuous translucent white pouring that was blown around by the wind that whistled and shrieked and rattled impotently at the windows. Oddly, or perhaps not so strangely, even though the walls were comparatively thin, no hint of a chill entered the building.

You raised yourself up on the windowsill and glanced around. Of the street outside you could only see white. White seemed to cover every surface now, like a pristine blanket...very deadly, perhaps, to those who had been caught in the blizzard, even those indoors without heating, and you understood.

Even Narbondel seemed to be fighting a losing battle. From here its infrared signs flickered madly on and off, like a candle flame about to be smothered.

And...strange! You could see shapes, moving on the ice. 

Pressing your nose to the glass, you finally made out irregular shapes – a rothe-like one there, a humanoid-like one here, bulky, crude, and as if made of ice, shambling through the blizzard as if it was not there. And if you tried to focus on them through the screaming wind, you seemed to hear guttural, primitive roars.

The soldiers appeared to have noticed them for some time already – they called the creatures _L'snow phindaren_, the snow monsters, but seemed untroubled by them.

You wondered vaguely what Winter had done.

Watching the shambling, apparently aimless movements of the creatures for a while, you decided to go and find Kimmuriel or Rai'gy. Perhaps they would be scrying.

**

They were.

Kimmuriel, in his chamber, stood next to Rai'gy before several 'windows'. Two of these continually shifted views over Menzoberranzan, which appeared to be nearly covered in snow, except for certain shanty towns. One was of Winter, still in the exact position in which you had left her, a serene, if slightly strained smile on her face.

One was over a huge compound, also ice-covered, the courtyard empty of activity. It had a strange fence that looked like a massively woven spiderweb, and this you guessed to be the infamous House Baenre.

There appeared to be a larger concentration of the _snow phindaren_ here, shambling about, getting stuck on the web-fence, forming inside the compound...

"Is it working?" Kimmuriel was asking Rai'gy.

"I have no idea," Rai'gy said, looking more rumpled than usual but more recovered after his rest.

"You have no idea?" Kimmuriel repeated in disbelief.

"I only saw the later parts of this...trick," Rai'gy explained. "I do not know if it would work again."

"Why did she use this before?" Kimmuriel mused.

"Capture by her own House," Rai'gy glanced at the windows over Menzoberranzan. "This...tricked them enough to throw her out in the snow. Watch House Baenre. Sooner or later what she calls the Snow King will turn up with his demands. All her own imagination, of course."

"And this...Reima will not suspect?"

"Unless he knows of her. Or even if he did suspect, I do not think he knows of that extraplanar dimension. No doubt he will try to find her on this dimension first. Perhaps Irr'liancrea can take care of it." Rai'gy sounded doubtful.

You knew that if that Reima were to try to confront Winter in the...extraplanar dimension, the twins would try their best to help, and so felt better than Rai'gy looked.

"How will this harm her?" Kimmuriel asked.

Rai'gy shrugged. "She never fully explained to me what would happen. But from what I believe, she manages to merge her...spirit into that of a true winter season on the surface, and bring it here, and control it. She will be very weary for a long time after this – and very cold, because after she stops controlling this winter and takes her spirit back into her body, it is still touched with frost. She may catch...I believe she called the word 'hypothermia' or worse. As I had mentioned before, she nearly died several times the last she tried this."

"And Winter's..._abbilen_? Ssussun and Veldrin?" Kimmuriel murmured. 

"They have power," Rai'gy said simply. "And apparently they may be one of the reasons why Reima is here."

"Then Bregan D'aerthe..."

"_L'ogglin d'ussta ogglin zhah ussta abbil_, *" Rai'gy quoted.

"_Ol xal tlu ji_...but they make me uncomfortable." Kimmuriel muttered. "They are from the Abyss."

"So is Lloth our Goddess," Rai'gy chided.

"If Lloth were to appear here in front of me, I would also be uncomfortable," Kimmuriel chuckled, then glanced at you as you went to curl up in a corner of the room. "Another of her _abbilen_?"

Rai'gy shrugged, dismissing you as another of Winter's eccentricities. You did not know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

**

At least the twins remembered enough to feed you, you thought, at their table in the large canteen in the building. Predictably they did have several admirers of common soldiers, which backed off respectfully when the captains Rand'eran and Berg'inyon appeared. The other two captains had been sectioned off to other main Bregan D'aerthe buildings.

You finished quickly and padded off to do something else other than watch the twins continue their 'play'. At least they seemed unconcerned.

**

Two cycles of Narbondel later, and the snow was waist-deep, a soldier reported to Rai'gy. The two of them still sat at Kimmuriel's chambers scrying, with the occasional dishes of food pressed on them.

"See," Rai'gy pointed at the 'window' overlooking Baenre.

"The 'Snow King' you had been speaking of?" Kimmuriel said, after a while.

"A figment of her imagination," Rai'gy nodded, but you sensed admiration in his voice. It took a lot of will power to animate so many objects.

You strained to look, and saw a figure sitting on what appeared to be a high-backed, elaborate throne in Baenre's courtyard. Kimmuriel changed the view closer, and the figure became clearer. It was a humanoid-like creature, but massively built, as large as minotaur, with a strict, forbidding face wreathed with a luxuriant beard. From his temples sprang large antlers not unlike that of _rakshalk_, Underdark elk, though of course scaled much smaller. The giant elk stood nearly twice as tall from the shoulder as any elf.

He was speaking to a small blue disc.

"Communication disc," Rai'gy murmured. "To Baenre, I would think?"

Kimmuriel appeared to do nothing, but abruptly sound filled the room, as if all of you were inside the Baenre compound.

"...and demand Baenre immediately give up Jarlaxle to the ice." The Snow King's voice was harsh and soft at the same time, snow and ice, along with a certain whistling hissing undertone like a winter's wind. He spoke in slightly hesitant, broken drow, which was nearly painful to listen to.

A voice seemed to come from the disc. "Until Jarlaxle bequeaths the ownership of the artifact known as Crenshinibon to me, you cannot have him."

"Triel Baenre," Kimmuriel identified.

Bequeath...

"So that was why they wanted him," Rai'gy said. 

"If I understood Winter's _abbilen_, did they not say that Reima wanted to destroy the shards?" Kimmuriel looked puzzled.

"Who knows what he...or it wants to do," Rai'gy rubbed a cramp in his shoulder blades thoughtfully.

"Then I will bury Menzoberranzan in snow and ice," the Snow King said with deadly calm, as if this was perfectly easy. "I am familiar with the drow ways. Your tortures are extreme – he may die, or find a way to kill himself. And the only one whom will have the privilege of killing Jarlaxle must be _myself_. I wish to be revenged on him. Many years he has been safe enough, so I have had time to build up my revenge, but you hurry matters, Matron, and it appears that I must act."

The voice from the disc was angry now. "You can not wait?"

"I am not used to waiting."

"_Nav_, then, and light take you!"

"Then see Menzoberranzan freeze to its death. When your people die and join my army of ice, in my vengeance I shall freeze all drow cities one by one, until your entire race is extinct." Again, said with deadly calm.

"I do not believe you can do this."

"Then watch." The Snow King extended his hand and grasped the disc, crushing it. When he opened his palm again, it was gone.

Kimmuriel turned off the sound and whistled. "I did not know one could banish a Matron's speak-disc."

"You have not known Winter for very long," Rai'gy continued to rub his shoulder.

"This may work...or they may hasten and up their efforts to force Jarlaxle to hand over ownership of Crenshinibon..."

Rai'gy closed his eyes and did not reply.

As you watched the windows, you saw that outside, the blizzards seemed to be worsening noticeably.

**

A short while after the start of the third Narbondel cycle, Narbondel itself stopped working. The ArchMage, apparently, could not start the fire – the tower had been clogged with snow and frozen over with ice.

The city slowly began to freeze to death.

"She did not go this quickly the last time," Rai'gy remarked. Jarlaxle's inner circle sat in Kimmuriel's chambers, watching the windows.

"How many dead?" Berg'inyon murmured.

Kimmuriel shrugged. "Many from the noble houses, especially the smaller and poorer ones, and not only slaves."

"Triel _has_ to give in soon," Rand'eran predicted. "It does not look like this Reima is helping to shield House Baenre from the cold." Snow covered the massive building, as if crushing it under its weight.

"Good," Tilarjen murmured under his breath. "Let Baenre freeze."

**

Near the end of the third cycle, Tantras'nen spotted movement on the top of one of Baenre's balconies, and called attention to it. Kimmuriel arrived via portal, and enlarged the view, also allowing sound.

Six on the balcony, Triel Baenre, four guards, and a limp, bloody mess just identifiable as a drow. Berg'inyon hissed.

"...take him!" Triel was saying, and two guards caught hold of the drow's shoulders, two others of his ankles, and heaved him over the railing.

"_Iblith_!" Tilarjen snarled. The height would kill him, if it was Jarlaxle.

"Watch," Rai'gy said tightly.

An enormous, fish-like mouth broke from the snow below, as if the snow itself was only water, large enough to swallow a few of Baenre's towers. It rose with astonishing speed, then closed neatly over the falling figure entirely, before falling back into the snow.

You noticed that the Snow King made a curt bow in Triel's direction, then disappeared. The blizzards stopped, and the monsters too turned into mere interestingly-shaped snow statues.

"Quickly!" Rai'gy pointed to Winter's window, but Kimmuriel had already opened a portal. All of you rushed through, to see another sort of dimension door, the flat planar type, opening a few feet over Jarlaxle's desk.

Kimmuriel was shouting for medical aid outside the door, but the rest of you watched with silent fascination, the blue colors swirling as if mixed by an unseen hand.

Then the bloody figure of Jarlaxle landed gently on his side facing Winter on the desk, singed, broken, skin still melting in some patches due to some sort of acid, fingers a raw red mess, some of his nails pulled out, his eyes closed and blackened, welts on his back as if from whips. He wore a dirty loincloth stained with his own blood and worse. Only his harshly ragged breathing would have made you believe that the tortured remains were still alive.

You trotted to Winter's side and looked at her, and felt horrified. Her skin was frosted over, and there seemed to be some sort of faint blue light flowing into her from Irr'liancrea. You could feel the intense cold radiating from it.

What was the sword doing?

But she opened her eyes, slowly, and rubbed off the thin coating of ice on her eyelashes, and slowly smiled, wearily, but with grim triumph.

Unbelievably, Jarlaxle raised his head to regard Winter, and they watched each other for a short, uncomfortable moment.

Then Winter's smile widened. "By Morikan, you look like hell."

--

Language:

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L'ogglin d'ussta ogglin zhah ussta abbil: The enemy of my enemy is my friend


	19. Intimacy

Chapter 19

Intimacy

"Winter?"

Someone knocked on the door to the chamber, and you looked up from the foot of the bed, senses muffled by sleep, with a bad taste in your mouth, but rising slowly back to alertness. Winter, predictably, slept on peacefully. She had been sleeping – or unconscious – for quite a while. After staying conscious long enough to see that Jarlaxle was getting treated, she had then allowed Rai'gy to herd her away to rest. Irr'liancrea was still embedded in Jarlaxle's desk, for all you knew.

The guest chamber was painfully empty – just the bed and a stone table none the worse for wear. Old smells told you that this room had, more often than not, been used for a sick room.

Winter felt unbelievably cold. If you were to stand an inch or so away from her, you would feel the cold actually radiating from her skin as she somehow, slowly, began to merge it back into her and bring herself back to a 'normal' temperature. But, as Rai'gy said, it would take time – and a longer time for her body to recover from the damage the cold would wreck. At least with a blanket between her and yourself, you did not feel much.

At least frost had stopped forming on her, which Rai'gy said was a good sign.

At least she was not 'in danger of dying' as Kimmuriel had observed.

At least...

The twins occasionally came in to warm Winter's extremities magically – fingers, toes and ears, speak amongst themselves about inconsequential things, then wander off. You decided to nap on her feet – a living hot water bottle, Veldrin had said (and giggled). But there was nothing much else to do in this place.

The door opened, and Jarlaxle stepped in, wearing plain robes for once, his normal hard black boots and some bangles on his wrists and ankles, though no hat. Apparently plans were still underway to recover the rest of his clothing from House Baenre. Jewelry clashed noisily on each other as he turned to close the door, then were silent as he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.

You wondered if growling was a good idea, this close. Triel Baenre had probably confiscated his dagger-glove sheaths, as they were missing, but that did not make him seem any less dangerous.

Jarlaxle took one of Winter's limp hands, looked startled at how cold it was, and then rubbed them absently with his own. He gave no indication that he knew of your presence, or even cared of it, but continued to stare at Winter's serene features.

You studied him curiously. You had no idea how much time had already passed since the rescue, but he looked like he had made a remarkable recovery. Perhaps Rai'gy had managed to use his healing spells, or perhaps it was one of their miraculous potions. Other than a certain haunted look in his eyes, and the lack of the clothes which he was famous for, he looked like the mercenary leader of old, and nothing like the bloody ruin which had been thrown off Baenre's balcony.

Without much light in the room you had to use infrared vision, and Winter seemed alarmingly cool in it, only the barest of life-signals. The only light – magelight of a particularly weird hue of yellow, courtesy of Ssussun, cast distorted shadows on the ground and on Winter's face. 

Not much of a wonder Rai'gy was so concerned...but she had only done this for three Narbondel-cycles. What had happened to her when she held out for nine?

You did not really want to know.

However, on more important matters, Winter was not conscious now, and Irr'liancrea far away. You did not know what the mercenary leader may attempt, and for a short moment considered trying to drive him away. But his actions now were innocuous enough, and you had the feeling he wanted to talk to Winter rather than to try something else with her. He gave no indication that he was still angered by what she had done to him before she had left Menzoberranzan.

After some time Winter's fingers twitched, then twined themselves around Jarlaxle's in a half-aware movement. She let out a sleepy murmur, stirred, then frowned slightly. Her fingers froze, then curled around Jarlaxle's hand again as she opened an eye.

"Well..._you_ look better," she said shortly, rather laboriously, made an effort to smile, then closed her eye again.

"You look worse," Jarlaxle remarked dryly, then added gallantly, "_Jhal izil ssin'urn izil p'los_, *" and brought her fingers up to brush them with a light, teasing kiss.

Winter opened her eyes again, and chuckled. "_Bel'la dos, s'lurrppur *_."

"Hmm." You could not see what Jarlaxle did next, but Winter jerked her hand from his grip, then made an effort to push herself up into a sitting position, failing rather miserably. Jarlaxle, oddly, or not oddly, did not help her. Finally she propped herself up on her elbows, half-sitting up, half-lying down, making the pose seem languorous instead of helpless.

"Did you give it to them?" Winter asked bluntly. 

"Give what?" Jarlaxle asked innocently, reaching for her hand again. She pulled it out of reach.

"You know perfectly well. Morikan, for someone...who had just undergone torture, you seem remarkably...playful." Winter spoke in short, broken bursts, still tired, weariness making her frank.

Jarlaxle was silent. Winter looked first defiantly demanding, then suspicious, and then finally contrite. "Jarlaxle, I apologize if..."

"_Nav_...you had a right to ask," Jarlaxle cut off her apology, his voice serious now, flat, with a suggestion of tired horror, more like what you would have thought Jarlaxle to look like. "I did not give it to them."

"You did not? I had underestimated you, then," Winter said frankly, meaning to sound jovial, but not quite succeeding. She slid back into a reclining and more comfortable position, at ease now.

"But I would have," Jarlaxle whispered. "The next time, or the time after that."

The silence after this admission was even longer and strained. Winter, embarrassed and mortified at her lack of tact, and Jarlaxle...well, you did not truly understand the mercenary leader. When you put him under a category, then he would go and do something else, which would make him more confusing than before. 

But she did not say something cheery like 'but you did not', or say something sympathetic, which would have made it worse. Both of them knew that.

This time, Winter reached for him, and he took her hand gently, a simple if poignant gesture of trust, mutual alliance, understanding and comfort.

"When do you think you would recover?" Jarlaxle pushed the conversation onto neutral ground.

Winter smiled comfortably – or complacently. "The last time, I took six months."

"Six months!" Jarlaxle whistled. "You take a lot of trouble to keep your word."

The smile lingered. "I like to gamble. However I think this time I should not take half as long."

"Reima is still a threat." Jarlaxle pointed out.

"You may have to work without me, then." Winter shrugged painfully. "You would have had to do that in the beginning. Irr'liancrea and I do not work with Crenshinibon."

"Not even with me?" Jarlaxle said teasingly.

"_Nav_." Winter said seriously, refusing to be baited.

"Then why did you help me?"

"I gave my word." Winter murmured, as if about to sleep.

"Winter," Jarlaxle said sharply.

Winter, alert again, apparently decided to answer truthfully. "Because, as I once said, both my shard and I think you would be the best one now to be Crenshinibon's wielder. You have the will. Better than Triel, at least." She paused, then smiled wickedly. "And because I like you."

"Ah." This last seemed to have worked where pretending to fall asleep and asking him embarrassing questions had failed to do – stun Jarlaxle into speechlessness.

"The twins would help," Winter continued mildly. 

"Twins? You mean Veldrin and Ssussun?" Jarlaxle regained his composure quickly.

"_Xas_. How many followers do they have now?" Winter chuckled.

"Lost count," Jarlaxle sighed. "You brought them here on purpose." An accusation.

"Yes I did." Winter smirked. "They told me they found drow elves...'adorable', I believe."

"Until the snow finishes melting, at least some of my soldiers have something to do," Jarlaxle said, not disturbed at all. Now it was Winter who looked off-balance, and you wondered if this was a game between the both of them. Neither would acknowledge it if you confronted either of them with it, though.

"They have power enough to help," Winter observed. 

"Would they?"

"Most likely," Winter said lightly. "They do get attached to their playmates...and Reima may also be after them. Did you see him?"

"_Nav_." Jarlaxle shook his head.

"Pity." Winter murmured to herself, "But not much of a surprise."

"Are those _abbilen_ of yours succubi?" Jarlaxle asked dryly, jokingly.

"Close." Winter replied impishly. Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow. "They are of balor and of angels."

"More of balor, I would think," Jarlaxle observed, refusing to voice the normal exclamation when faced with such an admission (What?). Winter chuckled.

"Their mother may be proud to hear you say that."

"Mother?"

"Have you heard of the name Raelmaztigar?" 

You wondered if this was conversation for conversation's sake, or truly for information.

"The red lion?" Jarlaxle frowned with the effort of dredging his memory.

"Remarkable." Winter said teasingly. "You actually _know_."

"As you yourself said earlier," Jarlaxle bantered, "You underestimate me."

"Don't use my words against me," Winter scolded.

"Why not? Since they are obviously of such great learning and justification," Jarlaxle said archly.

"If you are going to be sarcastic you can go and do it somewhere else," Winter pretended to withdraw her hand. Jarlaxle hung on to it.

"But no one else here appreciates it," he grinned outrageously.

"Is that a compliment?" Winter said suspiciously, though a smile was in her eyes.

"Would you like it to be?"

"No, because if it were I may be obliged to return the favor." Winter fenced and parried.

"How blunt." Jarlaxle chided, "You do not like compliments?"

"Not barbed ones," Winter retorted, "Or those which are clearly flattery."

"Then what would you consider a compliment?" Jarlaxle chuckled, light-hearted now.

"You could tell me that I am beautiful." Winter said with an absolutely straight face. 

"Very vain," Jarlaxle observed.

"Then again, coming from you, that may not be a compliment after all," Winter said innocently. "You would call a _haszak *_ beautiful if you thought it would gain you an advantage."

"True," Jarlaxle admitted, then tried again, impishly. "What if I were to mean it?"

"I know your ability to go through truth detectors, Jarlaxle," Winter replied tartly, "You could call your skin purple and get away with it."

"Am I that much of a scoundrel?" Jarlaxle said with mock astonishment.

"Worse." Winter said, with wicked truth. "Now, I think I would like to continue sleeping, if you do not mind." She pointedly closed her eyes.

Jarlaxle did not move.

Winter apparently knew this would happen. Her breathing slowed, finally, into the steady rhythm of sleep. 

Jarlaxle shook his head in mild wonder. "She meant it," he murmured, sounding surprised, but did not leave the room.

You decided to try. Standing up awkwardly on the soft bed, you padded over to the mercenary and gingerly nosed him in the shoulder. He turned to regard you, and you bared your teeth and growled softly. _Go away_.

Instead of saying something, or flinching away, Jarlaxle chuckled and patted you with his free hand. You considered the consequences of taking it off with a well-placed bite, then decided that Winter would probably get upset. Besides, it would make a bloody mess on the bed. So you settled for nudging him again pointedly.

"You want me to go away?" Jarlaxle seemed as immovable as a large rock.

You nodded your head, and poked him, this time with a paw.

"What if I do not want to?" he challenged.

You bared your teeth.

He did not back down, but merely watched you calmly. "Do you want a fight?"

You did not respond to that, but braced yourself in case he did.

"I would not think Winter would want a fight now," Jarlaxle said, half to himself, half to yourself, but turned his back on you. Surprised, you closed your mouth with a snap, unsure as to what to do next. Jarlaxle refused to be intimidated or invited out...but you did not want a scene here, where Winter needed rest.

Now what?

Jarlaxle spoke up next. "Would you rather we pretended that the both of us did not exist?" He half-turned to look at you, and you realized that he was grinning, a little devilishly.

You shrugged the best a wolf could, refusing to be charmed. Frankly, at times you _wished_ he did not exist.

"Would you rather we had a truce?" Jarlaxle continued.

Uncertain, you shifted your weight, paws sinking into the bed, unstable ground. Jarlaxle would have a better advantage in a scuffle now, though you were close enough to snap his neck with your jaws.

"What do you not like about me?" he asked, yet another strange question.

What did you not...faced with a direct question, you could not think of an answer. You shrugged again.

"Well done," Jarlaxle chuckled.

"Stop teasing Kel, Jarlaxle," Winter said, awake again. Her eyes were half-lidded with amusement, and you wondered how long she had been listening, or if she had even been asleep at all.

"I am not teasing your _abbil_," Jarlaxle said archly, and turned to you. "Was I teasing you?"

You shot Winter a glance, then held Jarlaxle's gaze and nodded slowly.

Jarlaxle glared at you, but Winter began to chuckle. "_Bel'la dos_, Kel. Now, do you have anything else to say, Jarlaxle?"

"_Xas_," Jarlaxle said indignantly.

Winter interrupted before he got further. "Never you mind, I do not think I wish to hear it. Isn't there something better for you to do?"

"Until the city defrosts, no," Jarlaxle stroked her hand lightly, "I would have you know that your...plan just destroyed a few Bregan D'aerthe schemes in a few Houses."

"Too bad," Winter said with supreme indifference. "How did you know it was mine, really? I saw them show you the snow behind a window once...and they appeared to be asking you questions about whether you knew this would happen, whether this was your fault..."

"I was not very sure," Jarlaxle admitted, "Though I knew that it was very possibly your work...although I had not heard of the 'first time' you attempted this in Irinelaeran."

"They hushed it up," Winter nodded. "So how did you guess? What you said seemed to be important in getting them to toss you off the balcony."

"You did give some indications," Jarlaxle shrugged.

"The snow?"

"_Nav_."

"The...animated sculptures? I had a few likenesses there of..."

"_Nav_...did not notice those."

"The wording of the Snow King's speech?"

"I could not hear him."

"Then?"

"The word for 'idiot' in svirfneblin that appeared in large letters on the courtyard," Jarlaxle admitted. 

Winter snickered. "I thought that would serve to get your attention...and I was feeling exasperated with you. But you did not know I could write svirfneblin."

"_Nav_...but I decided to gamble." Jarlaxle smiled, and threw back her words in her face. "I like to gamble."

"What did I say about using my words?" Winter returned his smile.

"Hmm?" Jarlaxle brought her hand up to his mouth again. 

Winter twisted her hand, and gently touched his cheek, caressing. "At least you're warm," she said absently, and shivered. What she said did not appear to have any relevance at all, but Jarlaxle did not question her.

"Well," he said silkily, "I could..."

Winter chuckled, interrupting before he could put forward his probably improper suggestion. "_Nav_."

Jarlaxle shrugged, unfazed, and pressed her hand to his mouth, then replaced it gently on the bed, uncurling from the bed with grace.

"Jarlaxle..." Winter blinked, probably wondering, as you did, why Jarlaxle was going to leave so suddenly.

He didn't.

"Hmm?" he bent over and gently lifted her shoulders off the bed, sat down, then cradled her to himself, right arm lazily around her waist, resting her head on his shoulder, supporting her back with his other arm.

"Jarlaxle..." Winter protested, but snuggled closer instead of pulling away.

"Warmer now?" he chuckled. 

"Not really...but more comfortable," she said dryly. "I will not be warmer for a while yet."

"Is there anything I can do?" Jarlaxle asked slyly, but he knew the answer.

"_Nav_," Winter closed her eyes, then snapped them open. "_However_, you could let me sleep." she pushed away his right hand, which was getting a little too bold.

"You have been sleeping for at least a cycle," Jarlaxle said defensively, but stayed his hand.

"Only?" Winter said archly.

"And about food..."

"Irr'liancrea took care of that." Winter clapped her right hand on Jarlaxle's as he attempted to stroke her thighs. "Jarlaxle! If I have to use magic to throw you out of here..."

"Will you?" Jarlaxle smiled. 

"If I must," Winter retorted, but twisted herself up, the blanket falling away, the robes which were a copy of the twin's dropping away to reveal a large amount of left leg, from just under the hip to well below the knee, where the blanket served to cover the rest. Winter pretended innocently to be unaware of this, but Jarlaxle appeared to stop breathing.

"_Ssinssress_," he muttered under his breath.

"_Ussa_?" Winter asked near his ear, with feigned astonishment. She batted Jarlaxle's hand away and placed his arm firmly over her waist. Undaunted, Jarlaxle converted the loose hold into an intimate embrace, but this time, Winter merely chuckled.

"Is this a new sort of torture?" he asked lightly, but his voice become slightly husky.

Winter half-closed her eyes. "Tell me you're not enjoying it."

Jarlaxle's eyes twinkled. "I am not..."

"And you add perjury to your many faults." Winter retorted. "Now if you do not mind, I am going to sleep."

"_Nav_, I do not mind," Jarlaxle said slyly.

Winter closed her eyes, but continued, "Kel, if he tries something, you have my permission to bite him."

With pleasure.

Jarlaxle sighed.

--

Language:

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Jhal izil ssin'urn izil p'los: But as beautiful as before

__

Bel'la dos, s'lurrppur: Thank you, flatterer

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Haszak: illithid


	20. Angels and Mortals

Chapter 20

Angels and Mortals

"Sir, there is someone at the gates asking for you," the soldier said.

Jarlaxle looked up from where he had been discussing possible outcomes with his captains, Rai'gy, Kimmuriel and the twins, and frowned. "Who?"

You were in Jarlaxle's office – the one with the carpet where Winter, the twins and yourself had reappeared in after Calimport. Jarlaxle had called a meeting, knowing that Reima would most probably try to strike while Winter was still out of commission.

Crenshinibon, in Jarlaxle's casual reach, was 'alive' again, pulsing with odd shades of light. It flared brighter now, at the same time the twins stiffened.

"'Tis..." Veldrin began.

"I see," Jarlaxle said tightly. "Well." He began to stand up.

"No need for ceremony," a voice came from behind the soldier, a beautiful, musical voice, the voice of a talented singer – or an angel, in perfect drow. It soothed and calmed, even as you tensed and bared your teeth, you felt like drowsing, lulled by the beauty and cadence of the sound.

The soldier whirled, drawing his sword. A bad mistake – he suddenly caught fire, fire which flared white-hot, so painfully bright that you averted your eyes, spots dancing across your vision. When you looked back, the soldier was a pile of ash and melted metal on the ground.

Delicately, the stranger floated - _floated_ over the sad remains and into the room. A soft aura of white light radiated from him, or it, and it wore simply cut white tunic and what you could crudely call a long skirt, not knowing the exact term for it. It vaguely resembled a human, with rounded ears, though with an unearthly air around it. Gold hair fell around its shoulders – and it seemed neither female nor male. Hermaphrodite?

No large ungainly white wings sprouted from its shoulders. Eyes with gold pupils were wise and thoughtful, face serene, nearly frighteningly so.

The twins hastily got between the stranger and the others. "Uncle Reima," Ssussun smiled disarmingly. "How nice."

Reima turned its perfect face to regard them. "You have a last chance to return to your...balor parent," it pronounced the last word with profound distaste. "I am not here for you yet."

"'Tis the 'yet' that gets me," Veldrin said impishly. "If you'd 'come for' us sooner or later, why not face us now?"

The white aura around it flared brighter.

"Very brave of you anyway, Uncle..." Ssussun began.

"Do not call me that." The serene visage cracked a little.

"_Uncle_," Veldrin emphasized. "You come here when Irr'liancrea won't be able to help."

"I am not here for good-aligned shards." Reima said coldly.

"I would agree with Veldrin," Jarlaxle said quietly. "Rai'gy, Kimmuriel...all of you get out of here."

Tilarjen blinked. "Sir..."

"_Now_."

Unwillingly, they left, with a few backward glances. Jarlaxle waited, then closed his hand on Crenshinibon and walked slowly around the table to stand with the twins. Knowing that this was probably suicidal, you did, too.

"Go away, Reima," Jarlaxle said, with a measured tone. "Can you beat all of us?"

Reima looked all of you up and down. "Yes." It said, simply, and you knew that it spoke the truth.

"I'm insulted," Veldrin put her hands on her hips.

"You have lost your queen, Veldrin – you cannot hope to take the game," Reima pointed out gently.

"We can see about that," Ssussun said, and narrowed her eyes. A ring of gold-tinted fire formed around the angel, a cold flame – then Veldrin too clenched her fist, and hot, black fire merged with the ring. 

Reima watched calmly, apparently not discomfited at all even as the ring constricted quickly and appeared to consume it.

Then the fire dissipated, to show the angel – unharmed and mildly curious. "Where did you learn that from?"

"Ain't telling you," Veldrin stuck her tongue out at Reima. Jarlaxle looked slightly astonished at the twin's lack of seriousness even in the face of danger.

"_This_ is how you do it." Reima continued. It made no move, but a ring of fire sprang up around all four of you, hotter than the twin's flame, and slowly began to constrict. Jarlaxle's hand tightened on Crenshinibon, and the shard flared, but to no apparent effect until the twins too, put their hands on the shard.

The fire, slowly and grudgingly, died down into nothing.

Reima looked unconcerned.

"Are all angels this violent?" Jarlaxle grinned. "I thought your kin was supposed to be kind and gentle." 

"Wrong sort of angel," Ssussun smirked. "Mother'd make better angels than most of 'em."

Reima's face darkened.

"Truly? Then they must be a depraved lot." Jarlaxle said casually, not knowing whether the twins wanted to anger Reima for the sake or it or if they had some sort of plan in mind, but deciding to follow their cue.

"As bad as balors." Veldrin agreed.

"Do not slander Order," Reima said coldly, and you suddenly felt a crushing weight, on your heart, as if forcing it to stop...your vision began to black out, and your breathing began to stop...

Then the weight was taken off, and you gasped for breath, coughing and hacking, relieved and feeling way out of your league.

"Mortal," Reima said to Jarlaxle. "Why do you persist in keeping this artifact? Give it to me, and I shall leave."

"Go to hell," Jarlaxle pointed the shard at Reima. A bright bolt of varying colors shot out, and struck the angel in the chest, causing it to stagger back a little. More bolts followed, at a greater and greater rate, then the angel straightened, and the bolts began to be absorbed by some sort of barrier.

Jarlaxle stopped, and the barrier took the colors of the bolts. Then an immense bolt fuelled by the absorbed energy hissed through the air towards the four of you.

The twins hastily held out their hands, creating a barrier nearly exactly like that protecting Reima. The large bolt was stopped by it...then broke through. The twins quickly brought up another barrier, then another, then another...until the bolt lost enough energy to be absorbed safely.

"Clever," Reima commented, then turned back to Jarlaxle. "Mortal," it said, "Give me the shard."

Jarlaxle's answer was a bolt of a larger size than the one the angel had hurled at the four of you, fueled by the absorbed energy and amplified.

The angel disappeared under the blast, but then the energy changed to a yellow hue and earthed itself, making the ground ripple slightly, and then return to normal. Reima, however, now held a lance with a large, wickedly barbed point. The lance was forged of some shiny, silvery metal, and was neither carved nor studded with jewels.

"'e grounded it to 'nother dimension," Veldrin grumbled.

"What is that lance?" Jarlaxle frowned. "Or more accurately, what does it do?"

"Kill people," Ssussun suggested. "It's known as _Taijsien_...supposedly absorbs energy. Or something. Or it enhances. I can't remember."

"Don't let it touch you," Veldrin agreed. "I remember. It takes you and dumps you in the Grey Dimension. Limbo."

"Right," Jarlaxle murmured.

Reima attacked, swooping down at Jarlaxle, lance swinging. With surprising agility Jarlaxle dodged out of the way, as did you. The angel would have looked funny if you had been a spectator, but you were not, and you hastily leaped over another swipe. However, Reima was clearly unconcerned about you, and he continued to go after Jarlaxle.

"Reima," Ssussun cooed. The angel paused and turned its head.

"Catch." Veldrin said. Arrows formed in front of them, some black, some silver, and shot forward as if by some unseen bow. You guessed this was another merging balor-angel magic trick.

Reima created an umbrella that looked as if it were made of paper, put the domed top facing the twins, then spun it quickly. Arrows glanced off the spinning surface to clatter and dissolve on the ground. The twins kept up the apparently futile assault, and you wondered idly why...

Then the angel was hit by another burst of energy that threw it heavily into the wall. Jarlaxle lowered Crenshinibon and looked slightly satisfied, then annoyed as Reima floated back into the air, apparently unhurt, only slightly out of breath.

"Mortal, if you wish power I can give you some," Reima told Jarlaxle. "You do not need to fight me."

"You know my answer," Jarlaxle said mildly.

"Why do you refuse? Crenshinibon is a manipulative shard, and it will seek to control you."

"Unless I earn its respect enough for it to work with me," Jarlaxle retorted, firing another bolt which Reima deflected easily.

"That may never happen." Reima said coolly. "Crenshinibon is unlike Irr'liancrea."

"All things may change," Jarlaxle replied.

"Then you are a fool."

"Whether you think I am or not does not truly bother me," Jarlaxle shrugged. "Very few opinions matter to me."

Reima's reply was cut off as the twins charged it, holding similar lances now, having taken the interlude to 'copy' the one in Reima's hands. It blocked Ssussun's slash, and dodged Veldrin's. However, Jarlaxle chose that moment to fire another bolt, which clipped it on the shoulder.

Its eyes blazed, but it had to twirl away from both the twins as they pressed in.

Right in front of you. You leaped and bit it hard in the ankle, twisting to break bone, then quickly lunged away, a wolf's hit-and-run tactics.

Reima had no blood. You blinked, and turned back to regard the creature. At least it felt pain...fury now replaced the serenity on its face, but the teeth-marks healed.

It pointed at you, and then you had to dodge tiny lightning-bolts that sizzled past your tail and occasionally rebounded from walls. At least you were diverting attention...

A hurried glance in Reima's direction – the twins materialized on either side of the creature, and thrust their lances in...but Reima had disappeared, and the lances clashed in mid air.

It reappeared behind Jarlaxle, who appeared to have been suspecting this, because he leaped to the side, avoiding the nasty stab by the lance. Jarlaxle drew his slender sword in his free hand and parried the next blow, firing more bolts at Reima, which were deflected by a barrier.

Remarkably, Jarlaxle was a good fighter – that fact seemed to be overlooked usually due to him flaunting his other...talents, and was holding out. The twins dashed over and joined in, and somehow Reima managed to take on all three of them without either of their weapons getting a hit.

Time for you to try again. Unnoticed, you sneaked behind Reima, then gathered your strength and weight into your hindquarters and leaped high into the air, crashing into the angel's back and fastening your teeth into its shoulder. Your jump had not been timed well enough to get a grip on its neck, which would have been preferable...

Reima let out a harsh cry of pain, and a great force tore you off him and slammed you into the wall with enough force to darken your vision. You shook your head and winced at the pain – probably broke a few ribs.

After a few false starts you managed to look up. 

Your distraction had allowed Jarlaxle to stick his sword in Reima's leg, and it stuck out at a strange angle. Unconcerned, the angel grasped the hilt and pulled it out...and the twins took that moment to attack again with their lances, now wreathed in flames, and Jarlaxle tried another high-energy bolt.

You realized wryly that the impact of yourself on the wall had cracked it, and you attempted to crawl to your feet and back into the fight, but a sharp pain shot down your front paw and hind leg. You'd broken something worse than ribs. Helplessly, you sank down, out of the fight.

Reima parried with his lance and Jarlaxle's sword even as the wound closed up, and though the bolt appeared to penetrate a few layers, it was finally stopped and absorbed. It waved a hand, and you felt the edges of a shockwave that flung the three away from it – and more importantly, a certain distance away from each other. Jarlaxle crashed noisily into the wall close to you, harder than you had, and snarled. His hand was clenched so tightly on the shard, the knuckles were white.

The twins were slowly picking themselves up, but Reima waved a hand dismissively at them...and dimension doors appeared over them, which abruptly fell down, engulfing them and finally disappearing when they touched the ground.

"I hope Raelmaztigar has the sense to keep them out of the Prime Material Plane," Reima was saying, and you knew what it had done – it had sent the twins back to the Abyss, where their mother would most probably not let them back here.

Two allies lost.

Jarlaxle was breathing heavily, still seated on the ground. He did not try to get up even as Reima approached slowly. You could see sweat on his bald head, and his expression was desperate...and determined.

The twins did not reappear...and Reima was a few feet away.

Then it suddenly stopped, against a barrier. It frowned, though it did not seem too bothered. "Mortal," it said, "One last chance."

"_Vith'os_." Jarlaxle said coldly.

Reima held up its hand, slowly, then clenched its fist. Jarlaxle flinched violently – and there was a small white flash as the magical barrier broke. Reima continued to approach – then its lance pointed an inch before Jarlaxle's forehead. 

"Mortal," it said, gentle yet firm, "You give me no choice."

Jarlaxle closed his eyes.

The blow never came. Abruptly the creature was knocked a fair distance away, where it hit Jarlaxle's desk. Jarlaxle's eyes flew open, and he turned to the doorway – and blinked.

Winter stood there, holding Irr'liancrea with both hands, and she walked in, jerkily. You felt suspicious – Winter normally walked with a quiet grace that would put any Matron to shame.

Her eyes were open – but radiated some sort of blue light, without pupils. Irr'liancrea pulsed in time to her slow breathing, and you watched her warily as she came to a stop before Jarlaxle.

"Irr'liancrea." Reima said with regret, standing back up in thin air.

"Reima." There was Winter's voice – but more obviously, there was Irr'liancrea's voice. Two spoke together, though one was louder – and you understood – she was under her shard's control.

Jarlaxle, with amazing effort, managed to pull himself to his feet, though he leaned heavily on the wall. You heard something like "And a pawn turns into a queen," murmured under his breath, and you thought of coincidences, and wondered how he knew of the popular surface world game.

"Why would you help your brother?" Reima inquired curiously.

"I do not help my/mine brother." Winter-Irr'liancrea said coldly.

"Then why?"

"I will not tell you/thee. But you/thou must return to where/whence you/thou came."

"If you interfere, then you will suffer the consequences," Reima warned, holding up its lance.

"So be it." Winter-Irr'liancrea did not bother to hold a stance, but charged, faster than ever, if rather gracelessly. Reima slashed forward – she parried. The ring of metal sang out in the room. 

Winter-Irr'liancrea was speaking precisely in the arcane tongue of Sanctuary, utilizing Loremaster magic. Bursts of blue fire curled around the sword and on the angel, who somehow managed to shield against it. It was faster than a normal elf, but she was no longer 'normal' now, and they seemed perfectly matched.

Finally they broke away, neither breathless as yet.

"Why did you ally with Baenre?" Jarlaxle asked, mildly.

Reima glanced at him, then apparently decided to answer. "She was to force you to give up ownership to herself, then give the shard to me. In return I would aid her and her house as long as she lived."

"She wanted the power for herself." Jarlaxle said with certainty.

"I considered that possibility," Reima nodded. "If she did not keep her promise, then I would have killed her."

"Why did you not shield the house from cold?" Jarlaxle continued impersonally. "Or try to counter the snow?"

"A waste of effort," Reima said coldly. "And I could wrest the shard away from you if I wished. Dark elves are evil – I would not save your kin. The more of you who meet your Goddess, the better."

"I would only use the shard here against my kin," Jarlaxle said, trying again.

"You, perhaps, but if you were to lose it to another? Like he who called himself Akar Kessel? Better that Crenshinibon find another planet."

"You/Thou cannot destroy it, or will not?" Winter-Irr'liancrea spoke up. "You/Thou seeks power too. You/Thou would absorb it into yourself/thyself?"

"What I do will be." Reima said coldly, but Winter-Irr'liancrea had hit a nerve. "I tarry. For your interference, Irr'liancrea, your wielder will die, and you will share the fate of your brother."

The angel attacked, lance spiraling tightly in some complex sort of move. Winter-Irr'liancrea barely managed to parry, even with her new speed, and let Reima drive her in a circle. 

You noticed belatedly that they were nearing yourself and Jarlaxle.

A few feet away, Winter-Irr'liancrea appeared to make a stand, sword flaring more brightly. She flinched to the side, parrying the stab by smashing the lance wide, then began to utter a long string of syllables that seemed to mostly lack vowels.

Jarlaxle somehow managed to slip behind Reima, even with his injuries. Wincing, he drew back his hand...

...as Winter-Irr'liancrea leaped high into the air...

Crenshinibon, tip suddenly dagger-sharp, stabbed into the angel's back, as the blue sword made contact with the angel's head. You expected the creature's head to be cleaved crudely into two by the apparent force of the blow, but instead the angel _dissolved_ into silver light which was _sucked into the lance_.

Winter-Irr'liancrea landed softly, and said something that sounded like a tying-off word. The lance flared, silver-gold light, then stilled again. "Did not think he would fall for it...but he did. And that...was that." She mused, looking at the lance.

Nothing else seemed to have happened to it – the silver thing sat on the ground harmlessly. But Winter-Irr'liancrea picked it up – no fireworks – and broke it with some effort over her knee. The broken pieces fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

"It's over?" Jarlaxle was swaying slightly, and looking as though he did not believe it was this easy. "That's it?"

"_Xas_." Winter spoke in her normal voice, then grimaced. "I really shouldn't be out of bed..."

Jarlaxle interrupted her a little rudely by grasping her shoulders and pulling her into a rough, hungry kiss. Winter's eyes widened in surprise, then as you suspected, instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and then kissed him back just as fiercely.

Both Crenshinibon and Irr'liancrea fell to the ground, forgotten like the remains of the lance, and you thought about irony, shards, and what the future might bring.


	21. Epilogue/Afterword

Epilogue

"And where are we now?" The drow male wearing a large purple wide-brimmed hat plumed with huge feathers looked avidly around the wide corridors of the stone building.

One of his companions, a beautiful female drow wearing embroidered blue robes and a cloak with a white dragon motif, grabbed hold of his gloved hand and dragged him on. "Warrior school. We are not really supposed to be here...but I thought I would go and check on Teiwaz before his wedding...since I may or may not be here in Spring. I knew him once."

A large wolf trotted placidly next to the female, less inclined to try to stop and gawk like the drow male.

"Kel, can you try and find him? I believe I am lost," the female said finally with a sigh, as they turned down yet another corridor.

"Winter? Lost?" the male raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Shut up, Jarlaxle." Winter snapped.

The wolf looked around for a moment, then trotted off confidently down another corridor. Winter dragged Jarlaxle along, especially past some of the stranger exhibits that were occasionally found mounted at the walls.

The wolf stopped before an arch, sensing that its companions were no longer following. Winter was pulling Jarlaxle away from another exhibit. "Jarlaxle! By Morikan, I swear you are doing this just to annoy me."

"Doing what?" Jarlaxle asked innocently, but allowed himself to be led.

Several screams cut through the relative silence of the guild, and Winter let go of Jarlaxle and stepped quickly through the arch, the wolf following her.

She sighed. In the large chamber, about thirty students and others were watching some sort of moving picture in a large screen embedded in the wall, just to her right. Several of the group squealed when she appeared, then collapsed into rather hysterical laughter.

A human girl and a gold elf got off their seat on one of the many jousting platforms and picked their way carefully over to Winter. 

"Didn't think you'd be here for the Festival of the Past," the handsome gold elf said with a happy smile, and held out his hand.

Winter shook it. "I'm not here for it, Teiwaz," she smiled. "And this is?"

"Oh. This is Rae." Teiwaz fondly put an arm around the human girl's shoulders and hugged her.

"Just like you to forget about me," Rae smiled. It was quite obvious that the two of them were very much in love.

"And these are?" Teiwaz raised an eyebrow at Winter's companions. Jarlaxle, standing at Winter's side, was attempting to watch the moving picture, but she kept a firm hand on his arm.

"Jarlaxle," Winter nodded at him, "And this is Kel, who is much more well-behaved."

"Hey." Jarlaxle protested. "What is this..." He made a gesture at the screen. His voice was slightly distorted – under some sort of translation spell.

"Oh, it's something from my world Morikan allowed us to import over," Rae said helpfully. "Though I really think we should not have watched it so late at night...it's called a movie. The Exorcist."

"Winter." A large reptilian, two-legged creature uncurled itself from the crowd and stepped delicately over. Winter smiled and affectionately patted the creature's shoulder.

"Has Zaknafein been treating you well, Pyrikkan?"

Pyrikkan snorted. "Define 'well'." It turned back and glanced at the screen when some more shrieks erupted from the audience. "Thank you, Rae. I believe quite a few of us will now have nightmares for a while."

Rae stuck out her tongue at it.

"Where is Zaknafein?" Jarlaxle asked curiously.

"Not here. He is the only one who got 'bored' by the movie, I believe the word is." Pyrikkan said dryly. "He may be anywhere, but I would think wandering around here somewhere. Are you the wielder of Crenshinibon?" It peered at Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle patted a crystal shard strapped to his belt.

"Ah." The Saur said vaguely, then returned to its seat.

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow.

"Saur are like that," Winter smiled. "Even if they look so fierce."

"They can be fierce," Rae pointed out. "Have you seen Pyrikkan fight before?"

"Without magic? Yes." Winter nodded. "Enjoy the movie."

Dismissal, but Teiwaz and Rae smiled in concert, bowed slightly, then picked their way back to their seats and curled up together.

"Nexus pairing," Winter explained, then made as if to leave. The wolf was watching the screen with interest.

"Winter?" the speaker, a tall human male dressed in rich, robed clothing of various shades of white approached. He had very light-colored hair, and his eyes were the oddest of all – all black, with specks of white like stars in a night sky.

Winter took one look and bowed.

The human chuckled. "No need for that. Are you here for the movie?"

Winter straightened, and swayed slightly. Immediately, Jarlaxle put a steadying hand around her waist. "Not really. Mostly for reporting. Sir."

"Who is this?" Jarlaxle frowned at the newcomer.

"My name is Morikan," the human smiled. "Or rather, that is what most call me. My real name is a little long. And you are Jarlaxle. I see...would you warrant your mission successful then, Winter?"

"You told me to observe and judge." Winter said. "I have."

"Report to Tauron later," Morikan nodded. "The information should belong in a book more than on some desk. Would you return to Sanctuary now, Winter?"

"And what would I do here?" Winter asked, the tone of her voice showing that she had asked this question of herself several times.

"You could be attached to another section," Morikan shrugged. "There are many available. The one to the Sword Hall is of age for his own quest – you could stay here. Zaknafein prefers you."

"Zaknafein perversely likes people who can fight him well," Winter said dryly. "Thank you, Morikan – but I would rather continue observing for a while."

"You do that very well," Jarlaxle said slyly.

Winter shushed him. Morikan, on the other hand, looked disgustingly pleased, as if this had been what he had expected all along. 

"Do you know where Zaknafein is?" she finally asked. 

"I know where everyone is," Morikan shrugged, a trademark gesture. "You have the means to find him." He nodded courteously at the wolf. "Drizzt is here as well...though I did believe I mentioned some sort of rule about bringing in outsiders..."

"Veldrin and Ssussun were grounded by Rael," Winter replied innocently. "I owed them something, and this place is the only place Rael would allow them to go...so I took them along. I take it they found Drizzt?"

"With astonishing speed," Morikan said wryly. "Zaknafein thinks it is amusing, but I trust you would return those two to their parents after this. I do not wish them to be loose in Sanctuary."

"Only natural," Winter said, vaguely.

"See that you will." Morikan said firmly. "I would count your...quest complete. You would get your evaluation eventually...but now I suggest you enjoy the Festival." He nodded at them, then returned to the shadows.

"Now, for Zaknafein." Winter grinned at Kel, who shrugged a wolf's shrug, and padded out of the door.

They found Zaknafein in one of the large indoor squares in the guild, for sparring, reading, or sleeping on one of the many large heaped pillows. The drow sword master was – oddly – sleeping, sprawled over a large number of cushions.

Winter sighed, and drew Irr'liancrea. She lunged forward, and thrust with the sword...

Zaknafein's breathing changed note, and he caught the blade between his palms just before it entered his chest. "Wha..." he opened his eyes, then sighed deeply. "First my son, then two succubi. Can you not let me sleep?"

"You don't need to sleep, Zaknafein," Winter said dryly, sheathing Irr'liancrea. Zaknafein glanced at Jarlaxle, then settled back into the cushions. 

"Go away," he said flatly, and closed his eyes again.

Jarlaxle began to chuckle. "That's Zaknafein, all right."

"Who did you think I was, Malice?" Zaknafein snapped. "Can you not understand me? Or is that translation spell awry again? Go away."

"Can I try now?" Jarlaxle twisted his wrist, then suddenly seemed to be holding five throwing knives.

"You might make a mess of the cushions, and you won't hit him anyway," Winter smiled, sitting down near Zaknafein. The wolf snuggled into several pillows with a sound of contentment.

Jarlaxle shook his head, but sheathed his knives, then sat down next to Winter and put both arms around her waist, then kissed her neck. Winter murmured something half-heartedly, then reached for him and kissed the sides of his mouth.

Zaknafein's acid voice cut in. "If the two of you are going to continue, the guest rooms are just down the corridor. Morikan. Is peace too much to ask for?"

"How are you?" Jarlaxle smiled.

Zaknafein did not even bother to open his eyes. "Fine. Now have the decency to go away. Oh yes. And the...twins were interested in the trick you played with Reima's lance."

"Hmm? Oh, I left it with no other choice other than to enter the lance, then as he was trying to return from the Grey Dimension I broke his only way out. I confess I did not expect Crenshinibon to help."

"I did not expect you to try and lock him in the lance...it was just opportunity," Jarlaxle admitted.

"Do not tell me, tell them," Zaknafein said irritably. "However you may have to wait until they have finished amusing themselves on my son."

"They may try it on you later," Winter warned with a wicked smile.

"Let them try," Zaknafein turned his back on them.

The wolf made a sound very much like a snicker.

"Anything else you want to do?" Jarlaxle murmured at Winter.

"Not really." Winter smiled slowly.

"He did mention...guest rooms." Jarlaxle kissed her forehead.

Zaknafein put a pillow over his head pointedly.

"Yes he did. Do you think we should look it up?" Winter chuckled.

The wolf watched them leave, thought better of following them, and peered at Zaknafein, who carefully rolled over, shook his head, then fell asleep again. After some thought, the wolf decided to follow his example.

--

Afterword

The author sits back in her revolving chair and folds her arms in satisfaction. "There!" 

Zaknafein puts his hands on the computer table and glances at the screen. "Another story written to slander me." 

"Slander? I thought I was being rather accurate." The author snickers. 

"What you said about my birth is not true..." Zaknafein pointed out. 

"Well, it is purely speculation, since you don't exist anyway." The author shrugs. 

"If I do not exist, then neither do you." 

"Well, sometimes I wonder about that." 

Zaknafein sniffed in contempt. "And as to your ideas of the drow tongue..." 

"My ideas? You were the one who translated." The author accused. 

"Some of those words do not exist in the language," Zaknafein explained, "And your attitude of 'just add those three letters and it'd be ok' is simply too complacent to be true." 

"I'm not writing a dictionary," the author retorted. 

"You're writing a 'fanfiction'." Zaknafein rolled the word in his mouth with distaste. 

"Yes I am," The author said dryly. "Any issues with it?" 

"What is your fascination with Jarlaxle this time?" 

"None of your business," the author smirked. "Well then, nice to see I finished this before Servant of the Shard was released here." 

"Now we can see how better Salvatore writes than you." Zaknafein said acidly. 

"I'm hurt." The author pouts. 

"Good." Zaknafein said heartlessly. "Now, as to your concept of all angelic things..." 

"So I'm a cynic," The author said defensively. 

"All of them either are evil and end up dying, or both. That is not cynical. That is..." 

"I get your point," The author said hurriedly. "Can we change the subject now?" 

"Very well," Zaknafein relents. "What are you planning to write next?" 

"I had a strange idea the other day..." 

"...not surprising..." Zaknafein murmured under his breath. 

"I thought I'd take the CD Supernatural by Santana and then write little stories based on every song title. Like 'Smooth'." The author grins, a little nervously. 

Zaknafein puts a hand on the author's forehead with mock worry. 

"I'm not feverish!" she bats his hand away. "Maybe I should have chosen Drizzt for a helper." 

"Oh?" Zaknafein raised an eyebrow. 

"True. He'd probably get apoplexy fairly early... oh dear. It's so hard to find good help nowadays." The author sulked. 

"How childish." Zaknafein snorted. "Now that you've finished your...'fanfiction', you owe me a drink." 

"Ah, right. Go downstairs and help yourself. My parents keep their wine somewhere in the back." 

Zaknafein bowed slightly and headed out of the door. 

The author smiled happily at her computer, then frowned and leaped out of the door after the elf. "Not all of it!" 


End file.
